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PICKVriCK CLUB, 

A NEW AND ILLUSTRATED nDrrZOir; 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 



CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, 

PHILADELPHIA, 
HAVE PUBLISHED A NEW EDITION OF 

THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 

OF 

THE PICKWICK CLUB, 

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS, 

BY 

SAM WELLER, Jk. AND ALFRED CROWQUILL, Esa. 

This edition is complete in one volume, and printed on fine 
paper. The illustrations executed in the best style, and printed 
on a beautiful cream-coloured paper. 



SAM SI.ICK. ' 

THEY HAVE ALSO PUBLISHED A NEW EDITION 

OF 

THE SAYINGS AND DOINGS 

OF 

THE YANKEE CLOCK-MAKER, 

SAMUEL SLICK, of SLICKVILLE. 

IN ONE VOLUME 12mo, 



BEAUTIES 



OP 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE 



BEAUTIES 



OP 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 



AUTHOR OF 



« THE SKETCH-BOOK," " KNICKERBOCKER," « CRAYON 
MISCELLANY," "LIFE OF COLUMBUS," &c. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

CARP^Y, LEA & BLANCHARD, 

ron 

GEORGE W. GORTON. 

1838. 






n 



L^t // 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

The Inn Kitchen, - - - - : - 13 

The Spectre BridegToom, - - - - - 15 

A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn, - - = - 29 

An Obedient Hen-pecked Husband, - - - - 32 

A Desirable Match, - - - - - - 36 

A Rival, - - - . - - - 38 

An Invitation, - - - - - - -40 

A Dutch Entertainment, - - - - - 42 

War, - - - - - - - -44 

English Stage Coachmen, - - - . . - 45 

The Waltz, - - - - - - - 47 

Dutch Tea-parties, - - - - - - 48 

Cosmogony, - - -- - - -50 

Dutch Legislators, - - - - - -56 

The Little Man in Black, - - . ' - -60 

My Aunt Charity, - - - - - - 67 

Will Wizard, - - - - - - - 71 

Style, - - . - . = ^ . ^ re 

Frenchmen, - - - - - - -79 

The Wife, - - - - - - -80 

To Anthony Evergreen, Gent., - - - - 87 

Showing the Nature of History in General,— furthermore, 

the Universal Acquirements of William the Testy, and 
how a man may learn so much as to render himself good 

for nothing, - = . - . - , =88 



99 



104 



tl COXTEIfTS. 

Page 
Dirk Sehuiler and the Valiant Peter, - - 95 

Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
City of New-Amsterdam — tog-ether with the interview 
between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Poffen- 
burg'h, and Peter's sentiments respecting- unfortunate great 
men, .„_--- 

Of Peter Stuyvesant's Expedition into the East Countiy, 
showing that though an Old Bird, he did not understand 

Trap, 

How the People of New- Amsterdam were thrown into a great 
Panic by the news of a threatened Invasion, and the man- 
ner in which tliey fortified themselves, - - 111 
The troubles of New-Amsterdam appear to thicken, showing 
the bravery in time of Peril of a People who defend them- 
selves by Resolutions, - - - - 114 

The Widow and her Son, .... 121 

Storm at Sea, -.-.-. 128 

John Bull, .-..-. 129 

Consequence, - - - - - - 139 

The Cockloft family, ..... 140 

Conversion of the Americans, - - - - 149 

Tom Straddle, .-.-.- 151 

Sleepy Hollow, - -- - - . 157 

Ichabod Crane, ------ 160 

Superstition, - - - - - - 163 

The Broken Heart, . - . . . 164 

A Wreck at Sea, . - . . - 171 

Land, - - - - - - - 173 

Genius, - - - - - - - 175 

A Contrast, ------ fj. 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Hac- 
chem. Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness the Bashaw 
of Tripoli, - - - - - - 179 

A warlike Portrait of the Great Peter, - - 186 

Mutability of Literature, - . . . 194 

Book-Making, ---.-. 195 

A Dutch Settler's Dream, . - - . 201 



eONTBNTS. Vll 

Pag« 
The Pride of the Village, - - - ^ 202 

Domestic Scene, ----- 210 

Master Simon, - - - - - 211 

Perseverance, ------ 212 

Doleful Disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter, - - ib. 

The Grief of Peter Stuyvesant, - - - 214 

The Dignified Retirement and Mortal surrender of Peter the 
Headstrong", ----.- 215 

Morning, -....- 220 

The Author's Account of his History of New-York, - ib, 

Westminster Abbey, ----- 222 

Master Henry Hudson, ----- 224 

Master Robert Juet, ----- 225 

A Dutch Voyag-e of Discovery, - - . 226 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Hac- 
chem, Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness the Bashaw 
of Tripoli, ------ 227 

Autumnal Reflections, ----- 232 

The Family of the Lambs, - - - - 237 

Blindmans'-Buff, ----- 240 

The Angler, ------ ih. 

Rural Life in England, - - - - - 243 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Muley Helim 
al Raggi, surnamed the Agreeable Ragamuffin, chief Moun- 
tebank and BufFo-dancer to his Highness, - - 246 
James I. of Scotland, ----- 254 

How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
the burden of taking care of the Nation — with sundry par- 
ticulars of his conduct in time of peace, - - 255 
Showing the great* difficulty Philosophers have had in peo- 
pling America — and how the Aborigines came to be begot- 
ten by Accident, to the great relief and satisfaction of the 
Author, ------ 263 

Wouter Van Twiller, ----- 269 

The Grand Council of New- Amsterdam — ^with reasons why 
an Alderman should be Fat, .... 274 

Ichabod Crane and the Galloping Hessian, - - 278 



VIU CONTBXTB. 

Page 
On Greatness, - - = . - 284 

How King Ferdinand foraged the Vega — and of the battle 

of the Bridge of Finos, and the fate of the two Moorish 

brothers, - - - - - - 292 

Boabdil el Chico, - - * > - - 297 

The Alhambra by Moonlight, . . . , 300 

Kidd the Pirate, ..... 302 



BEAUTIES 



OF 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE INN KITCHEN. 

During a journey that I once made through the Ne- 
therlands, I had arrived one evening at the Pomme d^Or, 
the principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was after 
the hour of the table cVJioie, so that I was obliged to make 
a solitary supper from the reliques of its ampler board. 
The weather was chilly ; I was seated alone in one end of 
a great gloomy dining-room, and my repast being over, I 
had the prospect before me of a long dull evening, without 
any visible means of enhvening it. I summoned mine host, 
and requested something to read; he brought m^e the whole 
literary stock of his household, a Dutch family-bible, an 
almanac in the same language, and a number of old Paris 
newspapers. As 1 sat dozing over one of the latter, reading 
old news and stale criticisms, my ear was now and then 
struck with bursts of laughter which seemed to proceed 
from the kitchen. Every one that has travelled on the 
continent must know how favourite a resort the kitchen of a 
country inn is to the middle and inferior order of travellers ; 
particularly in that equivocal kind of weather, when a fire 
becomes agreeable towards evenino;. I threw aside the 
newspaper, and explored my way to the kitchen, to take a 
peep at the group that appeared to be so merry. It was 
composed partly of travellers who had arrived some hours 
before in a diligence, and parti}'- of the usual attendants and 
hangers-on of inns. They were seated round a great bur- 
nished stove, that might liave been mistaken for an altar, 
at which they were worshipping. It was covered with va- 
rious kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness ; among 



14 BEAUTIES OF 

which steamed and hissed a huge copper tea-kettle. A 
large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon the group 
bringing out many odd features in strong relief. Its yellow 
rays partially illumined the spacious kitchen, dying duskily 
away into remote corners ; except where they settled into 
mellow radiance on the broad side of a flitch of bacon, or 
were reflected back from well-scoured utensils, that gleamed 
from the midst of obscurity. A strapping Flemish lass, with 
long golden pendants in her ears, and a necklace with a 
golden heart suspended to it, was the presiding priestess of 
the temple. 

Many of the company were furnished with pipes, and 
most of them with some kind of evening potation. I found 
their mirth was occasioned by anecdotes, which a little 
swarthy Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and large 
whiskers, was giving of his love adventures ; at the end of 
each of which, there was one of those bursts of honest un- 
ceremonious laughter, in which a man indulges in that 
temple of true liberty, an inn. 

As I had no better mode of getting through a tedious 
blustering evening, I took my seat near the stove, and listened 
to a variety of travellers' tales, some very extravagant, and 
most very dull. All of them, however, have faded from 
my treacherous memory except one, which I will endeavour 
to relate. I fear, however, it derived its chief zest from the 
manner in which it was told, and the peculiar air and ap- 
pearance of the narrator. Fie was a corpulent old Svvissj 
who had the look of a veteran traveller. He was dressed 
in a ta/nished green travelling jacket, with a broad belt 
round his waist, and a pair of overalls, with buttons from 
the hips to the ancles. He was of a full rubicund coun- 
tenance, with a double chin, aquiline nose, and a pleasant 
twinkling eye. His hair was light, and curled from under 
an old green velvet travelling cap stuck on one side of his 
head. He was interrupted more than once by the arrival 
of guests, or the remarks of his auditors ; and paused now 
and then lo replenish his pipe ; at which times he had ge- 
nerally a roguish leer, and a sly joke for the buxom kitchen 
maid. 

I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow lolling in 
a huge arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other holding a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 15 

curiously twisted tobacco pipe, formed of genuine e'cume de 
vier, decorated with silver chain and silken tassel — his head 
cocked on one side, and a whimsical cut of the eye occa- 
sionally, as he related the following story. 

THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. 

On the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald, 
a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, that lies not 
far from the confluence of the Main and the Rhine, there 
stood, many, many years since, the Castle of the Baron 
Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, and almost 
buried among beech trees and dark firs ; above which, 
however, its old watch-tower may still be seen struggling, 
like the former possessor I have mentioned, to carry a high 
head and look down upon the neighbouring country. 

The Baron was a dry branch of the great family of Kat- 
zenellenbogen,* and inherited the reliques of the property, 
and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the warlike 
disposition of his predecessors had much impaired the family 
possessions, yet the Baron still endeavoured to keep up some 
show of former state. The times were peaceable, and the 
German nobles, in general, had abandoned iheir incon- 
venient old castles, perched like eagles' nests among the 
mountains, and had built more convenient residences in the 
valleys ,* still the Baron remained proudly drawn up in his 
little fortress, cherishing with hereditary inveteracy, all the 
old family feuds ; so that he was on ill terms with some of 
his nearest neighbours, on account of disputes that had hap- 
pened between their great great grandfathers. 

The Baron had but one child, a daughter : but nature, 
when she grants but one child, always compensates by 
making it a prodigy ; and so it was with the daughter of 
the Baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, 
assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty in 
all Germany ; and who should know better than they ? She 
had, moreover, been brought up with great care under the 
superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some 

* uc. Cafs-Elbonv. The name of a family of those parts very powerful in former 
times. The appellation, we are told, was given in compliment to a peerless dame 
of the family, celebrated for a fine arm. 



16 SEAUTiES or 

years of their early life at one of the little German couri^^ 
and were skilled in all the branches of knowledge necessary 
to the education of a fine lady. Under their instructions? 
she became a miracle of accomplishments. By the time 
she was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and 
had worked whole histories of the saints in tapestry, with 
such strength of expression in their countenances, that they 
looked like so many souls in purgatory. She could read 
without great difficulty, and had spelled her way through 
several church legends, and almost all thechivalric wonders 
of the Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable pro- 
ficiency in writing ; could sign her own name without miss- 
ing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it 
without spectacles. She excelled in making little elegant 
good-for-nothing lady-like knick-nacks of all kinds ; was 
versed in the most abstruse dancing of the day ; played a 
number of airs on the harp and guitar ; and knew all the 
tender ballads of the Minnielieders by heart. 

Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes ira 
their younger days, were admirably calculated to be vigilant 
guardians and strict censors of the conduct of their niece ; 
for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent and inexorably 
decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She was rarely 
suffered out of their sight ; never went beyond the domains 
of the castle, unless well attended, or rather well watched ; 
had continual lectures read to her about strict decorum and 
implicit obedience : and, as to the men — pah I she was 
taught to hold them at such distance, and in such absolute 
distrust, that, unless properly authorized she would not have 
cast a glance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world — 
no, not if he were even dying at her feet. 

The good effects of this system were wonderfully ap- 
parent. The young lady was a pattern of docility and 
correctness. While others were wasting their sweetness in 
the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and thrown 
aside by every hand ; she was coyly blooming into fresh 
and lovely womanhood under the protection of those im* 
maculate spinsters, like a rose-bud blushing forth among 
guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride 
and exultation, and vaunted that though all the other young 
ladies in the world might -go astray, yet, thank Heaven, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 17 

nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenel- 
lenbogen. 

But, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort might 
be provided with children ; his household was by no means 
a small one ; for Providence had enriched him with abund- 
ance of poor relations. They, one and all, possessed the 
affectionate disposition common to humble relatives ; were 
wonderfully attached to the Baron, and took every possible 
occasion to come in swarms and enliven the castle. All 
family festivals were commemorated by these good people 
at the Baron's expense ; and when they were filled with 
good cheer, they would declare that there was nothing- on 
earth so delightful as these family meetings, these jubilees 
of the heart. 

The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and 
it swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness of being the 
greatest man in the little world about him. He loved to tell 
long stories about the stark old warriors whose portraits 
looked grimly down from the walls around, and he found 
no listeners equal to those who fed at his expense. He was 
much given to the marvellous, and a firm believer in all 
those supernatural tales with which every mountain and 
valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests ex- 
ceeded even his own: they listened to every tale of wonder 
with open eyes and mouth, and never failed to be astonished, 
even though repeated for the hundredth time. Thus lived 
the Baron Von Landshort, the oracle of his table, the ab- 
solute monarch of his little territory, and happy above all 
things, in the persuasion that he was the wisest man of the 
age. 

x\t the time of which my story treats there was a great 
family gathering at the castle, on an affair of the utmost 
importance. It was to receive the destined bridegroom of 
the Baron's daughter. A negotiation had been carried on 
between the father and an old nobleman of Bavaria, to unite 
the dignity of the two houses by the marriage of their 
children. The preliminaries had been conducted with 
proper punctilio. The young people were betrothed without 
seeing each other; and the time was appointed for the 
marriage ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburg 
had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was 

2* 



18 BEAUTIES OF 

actually on his way to the Baron's to receive his bride. 
Missives had even been received from him from Wurtzburg, 
where he was accidentally detained, mentioning the day 
and hour when he might be expected to arrive. 

The caslle was in a tumult of preparation to give him a 
suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked out 
with uncommon care. The two aunts had superintended 
her toilet, and quarrelled the whole morning about every 
article of her dress. The young lady had taken the ad- 
vantage of their contest to follow the bent of her own taste ; 
and fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely 
as youthful bridegroom could desire; and the flutter of ex- 
pectation heightened tlse lustre of her charms. 

The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the gentle 
heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost in reverie, 
all betrayed the soft tumult that was going on in her little 
heart. The aunts were continually hovering around her ; 
for maiden aunts are apt to take great interest in affairs of 
this nature. They were giving her a world of staid council 
how to deport herself, what to say, and in what manner to 
receive the expected lover. 

The Baron was no less busied in preparations. He had, 
in truth, nothing exactly to do ; but he was naturally a 
fuming bustling little man, and could not remain passive 
when all the world vvas in a hurry. Ho worried from top 
to bottom of the castie with an air of infinite anxiety ; he 
continually called the servants from their work to exhort 
them to be diligent ; and buzzed about every hall and 
chamber, as idly restless and importunate as a blue-bottle 
fly on a warm summer's day. 

In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed, the 
forests had runa; with the clamour of the huntsman ; the 
kitchen was crowded with good cheer ; the cellars had 
yielded up whole oceans of Rhein-wine and Ferne-wein ; and 
even the great Heidelburg tun had been laid under contri- 
bution. Every thing was ready to receive the distinguished 
guests with Savs unci Braus in the true spirit of German 
hospitality — but the guest delayed to make his appearance. 
Hour rolled after hour. The sun that poured his downward 
rays upon the rich forest of the Odenwald, now just gleamed 
along; the summits of the mountains. The Baron mounted 



■WASHINGTON IRVING, 19 

the highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of catching 
a distant sight of the Count and his attendants. Once he 
thought he beheld them ; the sound of horns came floating 
from the valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes. A 
number of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing 
along the road ; but when they had nearly reached the foot 
of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a different di= 
rection. The last ray of sunshine departed — the bats 
began to flit by in the twilight — the road grew dimmer and 
dimmer to the view ; and nothing appeared stirring in it, but 
now and then a peasant lagging homeward from his labour. 

While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of 
perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a 
different part of the Odenwald. 

The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly pur- 
suing his route in that sober jog-trot way, in which a man 
travels towards matrimony when his friends have taken all 
the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off. his hands^ 
and a bride is waiting for him, as certainly as a dinner at 
the end of his journey. He had encountered at Wurtz- 
burg, a youthful companion in arms, with whom he had 
seen some service on the frontiers ; Hermon Von Starken- 
faust, one of the stoutest hands, and worthiest hearts, of 
German chivalry, who was now returning from the army. 
His father's castle was not far distant from the old fortress 
of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rendered the fa- 
milies hostile and strangers to each other. 

In the warm-heaftecl moment of recognition, the young 
friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and 
the Count gave the whole history of his intended nuptials 
with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose 
charms he had received the most enrapturing descriptions. 

As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, 
they agreed to perform the rest of their journey together ; 
and that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from 
Wurtzburg, at an early hour, the Count having given di- 
rections for his retinue to follow and overtake him. 

They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of their 
military scenes and adventures ; but the Count was apt to 
be a little tedious, now and then, about the reputed charms 
of his bride, and the felicity that awaited him. 



20 BEAUTIES OF 

In this way they had entered among the mountains of 
the Odenvvald, and were traversing one of its most lonely 
and thickly wooded passes. It is well known that the fo- 
rests of Germany have always been as much infested by 
robbers as its castles by spectres ; and at this time, the 
former were particularly numerous, from the hordes of dis- 
banded soldiers wandering about the country. It will not 
appear extraordinary, therefore, that the Cavaliers were at- 
tacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the depth of the 
forest. They defended themselves with bravery, but were 
nearly overpowered, when the Count's retinue arrived "to 
their assistance. At sight of them the robbers fled, but not 
until the Count had received a mortal wound. He was 
slowly and carefully conveyed back to the city of Wurtz- 
burg, and a friar summoned from a neighbouring convent, 
who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul 
and body ; but half of his skill was superfluous ; the mo- 
ments of the unfortunate Count were numbered. 

With his dying breath he entreated his friend to repair 
instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the fatal 
cause of his not keeping his appointment with his bride. 
Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the 
most punctilious of men, and appeared earnestly solicitous 
that this mission should be speedily and courteously ex- 
ecuted. " Unless this is done," said he, " I shall not sleep 
quietly in my grave!" He repeated these last words with 
peculiar solemnity. A request, at a moment so impressive, 
admitted no hesitation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to sooth 
him to calmness ; promised faithfully to execute his wish, 
and gave him his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man 
pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into deli- 
rium — raved about his bride — his engagements — his plighted 
word ; ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of 
Landshort ; and expired in the fancied act of vaulting into 
the saddle. 

Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's tear, on the 
untimely fate of his comrade ; and then pondered on the 
awkward mission he had undertaken. His heart was heavy, 
and his head perplexed ; for he was to present himself an 
unbidden guest among hostile people, and to damp their fes- 
tivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 21 

certain whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this far- 
famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut up 
from the world ; for he was a passionate admirer of the sex, 
and there was a dash of eccentricity and enterprise in his 
character that made him fond of all singular adventures. 

Previous to his departure he made all due arrangements 
with the holy fraternity of the convent for the funeral so- 
lemnities of his friend, who was to be buried in the cathedral 
of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustrious relatives ; and 
the mourning retinue of the Count took charge of his re- 
mains. 

It is now high time that we should return to the ancient 
family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their 
guest, and still more for their dinner; and to the worthy little 
Baron, whom they left airing himself on the watch-tower. 

Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The Baron 
descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, which 
had been delayed from hour to hour, could no longer be 
postponed. The meats were already overdone ; the cook in 
agony ; and the whole household had the look of a garrison 
that had been reduced by famine. The Baron was obliged 
reluctantly to give orders for the feast without the presence 
of the guest. All were seated at table, and just on the point 
of commencing, when the sound of a horn from without the 
gate gave notice of the approach of a stranger. Another 
long blast filled the old court of the castle with its echoes, 
and were answered by the warder from the walls. The 
Baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law. 

The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger was 
before the gate. He was a tall gallant cavalier, mounted on 
a black steed. His countenance was pale, but he had a 
beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately melancholy. 
The Baron was a little mortified that he should have come 
in this simple, solitary style. His dignity for a moment was 
ruffled, and he felt disposed to consider it a want of proper 
respect for the important occasion, and the important family 
with which he v/as to be connected. He pacified himself, 
however, with the conclusion that it must have been -youth- 
ful impatience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner 
than his attendants. 



22 BEAUTIES OF 

" I am sorry," said the stranger, " to break in upon you 
thus unseasonably — " 

Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of compli- 
ments and greetings ; for to tell the truth, he prided himself 
upon his courtesy and his eloquence. The stranger attempt- 
ed, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words, but in vain, 
so he bowed his head and suffered it to flow on. By the 
time the Baron had come to a pause, they had reached the 
inner court of the castle ; and the stranger was again about 
to speak, when he was once more interrupted by the ap- 
pearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the 
shrinking and blushing bride. He gazed on her lor a mo- 
ment as one entranced ; it seemed as if his whole soul beam- 
ed forth in the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form. One 
of the maiden aunts whispered something in her ear ; she 
made an effort to speak ; her moist blue eye was timidly 
raised ; gave a shy glance of inquiry on the stranger ; and 
was cast again on the ground. The words died away ; but 
there was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft 
dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been 
unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl at the fond age 
of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, not 
to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier. 

The late hour at which the guest had arrived left no time 
for parley. The Baron was peremptory, and deferred all 
particular conversation until the morning, and led the way 
to the untasted banquet. 

It was served up in the great hall of the castle. Around 
the walls hung the hard favoured portraits of the heroes of 
the house of Katzenellenbogen and the trophies which they 
had gained in the field and in the chase. Hacked corslets, 
splintered jousting spears, and tattered banners, were ming- 
led with the spoils of sylvan warfare ; the jaws of the wolf, 
and the tusks of the boar, grinned horribly among cross- 
bows and battle-axes, and a huge pair of antlers branched 
accidentally over the head of the youthful bridegroom. 

The cavalier took but little notice of the company or the 
entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, but seemed 
absorbed in admiration of his bride. He conversed in a low 
tone that could not be overheard — for the language of love 
is never loud ; but where is the female ear so dull that it 



WASHINGTON IRVINCf. 23 

cannot catch the softest whisper of the lover ? There was a 
mingled tenderness and gravity in his manner, that appeared 
to have a powerful effect upon the young lady. Her colour 
came and went as she listened with deep attention. Now 
and then she made some blushing reply, and when his eye 
was turned away, she would steal a side-long glance at bis 
romantic countenince, and heave a gentle sigh of tender 
happiness. It was evident that the young couple were com- 
pletely enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in 
the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in 
love with each at first sight. 

The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the 
guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that attend 
upon light purses and mountain air. The Baron told his 
best and longest stories, and never had he told them so well, 
or with such great effect. If there was any thing marvel- 
lous, his auditors were lost in astonishment ,- and if any 
thing facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly in the right 
place. The Baron, it is true, like most great men, was too 
dignified to utter any joke but a dull one ; it was always 
enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent hocheimer ; 
and even a dull joke, at one's own table, served up with jolly 
old wine, is irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer 
and keener wits, that would not bear repeating, except on 
similar occasions ; many sly speeches whispered in ladies' 
ears, that almost convulsed them with suppressed laughter; 
and a song or two roared out by a poor, but merry and 
broad-faced cousin of the Baron, that absolutely made the 
maiden aunts hold up their fans. 

Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained a 
most singular and unseasonable gravity. His countenance 
assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening advanced; 
and, strange as it may appear, even the Baron's jokes 
seemed only to render him the more melancholy. At limes 
he was lost in thought, and at times there was a perturbed 
and restless wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but 
ill at ease. His conversations with the bride became more 
and more earnest and mysterious. Louring clouds began to 
steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run 
through her tender frame. 

All this could not escape the notice of the company. 



24 BEAUTIES OF 

Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of the 
bridegroom; their spirits were infected; whispers and glances 
were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs and dubious 
shakes of the head. The song and the laugh grew less and less 
frequent; there were dreary pauses in the conversation, which 
were at length succeeded by wild tales and supernatural le- 
gends. One dismal story produced another more dismal, and 
the Baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics 
with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away 
the fair Leonora ; a dreadful but true story, which has since 
been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all 
the world. 

The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound atten- 
tion. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the Baron, and as 
the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his 
seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the Baron's entranced 
eye, he seemed almost to tower into a giant. The moment 
the tale was finished, he heaved a deep sigh, and took a 
solemn farewell of the company. They were all amaze- 
ment. The Baron was perfectly thunderstruck. 

"What! going to leave the castle at midnight? why, 
every thing was prepared for his reception ; a chamber was 
ready for him if he wished to retire." 

The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysterious- 
ly ; " I must lay my head in a different chamber to night !" 

There was something in this reply, and the tone in which 
it was uttered, that made the Baron's heart misgive him ; 
but he rallied his forces and repeated his hospitable entreaties. 

The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at 
every offer ; and, waving his farewell to the company, 
stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were 
absolutely petrified — the bride hung her head, and a tear 
stole to her eye. 

The Baron followed the stranger to the great court of the 
castle, where the black charger stood pawing the earth, and 
snorting v^'ith impatience. — When they had reached the 
portal, whose deep archway was dimly lighted by a cresset, 
the stranger paused, and addressed the Baron in a hollow 
tone of voice, which the vaulted roof rendered still more 
sepulchral. 

" Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to you 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 25 

the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable 

engagement — " 

" Why," said the Baron, " cannot you send some one in 
your place ?" 

*' It admits of no substitute — I must attend it in person — 
I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral — " 

"Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, "but not until 
to-morrow — to-m rrow you shall take your bride there." 

" No ! no !" replied the stranger, with tenfold solemnity, 
" my engagement is with no bride — the worms ! the worms 
expect me ! I am a dead man — I have been slain by rob- 
bers — my body lies at Wurtzburg — at midnight I am to be 
buried — the grave is waiting for me — I must keep my 
appointment !" 

He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the draw- 
bridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs was lost in the 
whistling of the night blast. 

The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost consterna- 
tion, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted out- 
right, others sickened at the idea of having banqueted with 
a spectre. It was the opinion of some, that this might be 
the wild huntsman, famous in German legend. Some talked 
of mountain spirits, of wood-demons, and of other superna- 
tural beings, with which the good people of Germany have 
been so grievously harassed since time immemorial. One 
of the poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be 
some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the 
very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so 
melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on him the 
indignation of the whole company, and especially of the 
Baron, who looked upon him as little better than an infidel; 
so that he was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as pos- 
sible, and come into the faith of the true believers. 

But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they 
were completely put an end to by the arrival, next day, of 
regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the young 
Count's murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral. 

The dismay at the castle may be well imagined. The 
Baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who 
had come to rejoice with him, could not think of abandoning 
him in his distress. They wandered about the courts, or 

3 



26 BEAUTIES OP 

collected in groups in the hall, shaking their heads and shrug- 
ging their shoulders, at the troubles of so good a man ; and 
sat longer than ever at table, and ate and drank more stout- 
ly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits. But the 
situation of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To 
have lost a husband before she had even embraced him — 
and such a husband ! if the very spectre could be so gracious 
and noble, what must have been the living man 1 She filled 
the house with lamentations. 

On the night of the second day of her widowhood she had 
retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her aunts, 
who insisted on sleeping with her. The aunt, who was one 
of the best tellers of ghost stories in all Germany, had just 
been recounting one of her longest, and had fallen asleep in 
the very midst of it. The chamber was remote, and over- 
looked a sm'all garden. The niece lay pensively gazing at 
the beams of the rising moon as they trembled on the leaves 
of an aspen tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just 
tolled midnight, when a soft strain of music stole up from 
the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped 
lightly to the window. A tall figure stood among the 
shadows of the trees. As it raised its head, a beam of moon- 
light fell upon the countenance. Heaven and earth ! she 
beheld the Spectre Bridegroom I A loud shriek at that mo- 
ment burst upon her ear, and her aunt who had been awak- 
ened by the music, and had followed her silently to the win- 
dow, fell into her arms. When she looked again, the 
spectre had disappeared. 

Of the two females, the aunt required the most soothing, 
for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. As to the 
young lady, there was something, even in the spectre of her 
lover, that seemed endearing. There was still the semblance 
of manly beauty ; and though the shadov; of a man is but 
little calculated to satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, 
yet, where the substance is not to be had, even that is con- 
soling. The aunt declared she would never sleep in that 
chamber again ; the niece, for once was refractory, and 
declared as strongly, that she would sleep in no other in the 
castle: the consequence was, that she had to sleep in it 
alone ; but she drew a promise from her aunt not to relate 
the story of the spectre, lest she should be denied the only 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 27 

melancholy pleasure left her on earth — that of inhabiting the 
chamber over which the guardian shade of her lover kept its 
nightly vigils. 

How long the good old lady would have observed this 
promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of the 
marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first to tell a 
frightful story ; it is, however, still quoted in the neighbour- 
hood, as a memorable instance of female secrecy, that she 
kept it to herself for a whole week ; when she was suddenly, 
absolved from all further restraint, by intelligence brought 
to the breakfast table one morning that the young lady was 
not to be found. Her room was empty — the bed had not 
been slept in — the window was open, and the bird had 
flown ! 

The astonishment and concern with which the intelligence 
was received, can only be imagined by those who have wit- 
nessed the agitation which the mishaps of a great man cause 
among his friends. Even the poor relations paused for a 
moment from the indefatigable labours of the trencher; 
when the aunt, who had at first been struck speechless, 
wrung her hands, and shrieked out, " The goblin ! the 
goblin ! she's carried away by the goblin !" 

In a few words she related the fearful scene of the garden, 
and concluded that the spectre must have carried off his 
bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for 
they heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the moun- 
tain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the 
spectre on his black charger, bearing her away to the tomb. 
All present were struck with the direful probability ; for 
events of the kind are extremely common in Germany, as 
many well authenticated histories bear witness. 

What a lamentable situation was that of the poor Baron ! 
What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond father, and a 
member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen ! His only 
daughter had either been wrapt away to the grave, or he 
was to have some wood-demon for a son-in-law, and, per- 
chance, a troop of goblin grand children I As usual, he was 
completely bewildered, and all the castle in an uproar. The 
men were ordered to take horse, and scour every road and 
path and glen of the Odenwald. The Baron himself had 
just drawn on his jackboots, girded on his sword, and was 



28 BEAUTIES OF 

about to mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, 
when he was brought to a pause by a new apparition. A 
lady was seen approaching the castle, mounted on a palfrey, 
attended by a cavalier on horseback. She galloped up to 
the gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at the Baron's 
feet embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter, and her 
companion — the Spectre Bridegroom ! The Baron was as- 
tonished. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, 
ard almost doubted the evidence of his senses. The latter, 
;Sj was wonderfully improved ia his appearance, since his 
visit to the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and 
set off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He was no 
longer pale and melancholy. His fine countenance was 
flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his large 
dark eye. 

The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier, (for 
in truth, as you must have known all the while, he was no 
goblin,) announced himself as Sir Hermon Von Starkenfaust. 
He related his adventure with the young Count. He told 
how he had hastened to the castle to deliver the unwelcome 
tidings, but that the eloquence of the Baron had interrupted 
him in every attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the 
bride had completely captivated him, and that to pass a few 
hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the mistake to con- 
tinue. How he had been sorely perplexed in what way to 
make a decent retreat, until the Baron's goblin stories had 
suggested his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hos- 
tility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth — 
had haunted the garden beneath the young lady's window — 
had wooed — had won — had borne away in triumph — and, 
in a word, had wedded the fair. 

Under any other circumstances, the Baron would have 
been inflexible, for he was tenacious ©f paternal authority, 
and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds ; but he loved his 
daughter ; he had lamented her as lost ; he rejoiced to find 
her still alive ; and, though her husband was of a hostile 
house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a goblin. There was 
something, it must be acknowledged, that did not exactly 
accord with his notions of strict veracity, in the joke the 
knight had passed upon him of his being a dead man ; but 
several old friends present, who had served in the wars, as- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 29 

SLired him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and 
that the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege, having 
lately served as a trooper. 

Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The Baron 
pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at the 
castle were resumed. The poor relations overwhelmed this 
new member of the family with loving-kindness ; he was so 
gallant, so generous — and so rich. The aunts, it is truCj 
were somewhat scandahzed that their system of strict seclu- 
sion, and passive obedience, should be so badly exemplified, 
but attributed it all to their negligence in not having the 
windows grated. One of them was particularly mortified at 
having her marvellous story marred, and that the only 
spectre she had ever seen should turn out a counterfeit ; but 
the niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him sub- 
stantial flesh and blood — and so the story ends. 



A WET SUNDAY IN A COUNTRY INN. 

It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month of November. 
I had been detained, in the course of a journey, by a slight 
indisposition, from which I was recovering ; but I was still 
feverish, and was obliged to keep within doors all day, in an 
inn of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a coun- 
try inn ! whoever has had the luck to experience one can 
alone judge of my situation. The rain pattered against the 
casements ; the bells tolled for church with melancholy 
sound. I went to the windows in quest of something to 
amuse the eye ; but it seemed as if I had been placed com- 
pletely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of 
my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of 
chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full 
view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more calculated 
to make a man sick of this world than a stable-yard on a 
rainy day. The place was littered with wet straw that had 
been kicked about by travellers and stable-boys. In one 
corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island 
of muck ; there were several half-drowned fowls crowded 
together under a cart, among which was a miserable crest- 

3* 



30 BEAUTIES OF 

fallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit; his drooping 
tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the 
water trickled from his back ; near the cart was a half- 
dozing cow, chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be 
rained on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking 
hide ; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, 
was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain 
dripping on it from the eaves ; an unhappy cur, chained to 
a dog-house hard by, uttered something every now and then, 
between a baik and a yelp; a drab of a kitchen wench 
tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in pat- 
tens, looking as sulky as the weather itself; every thing, in 
short, was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hard- 
drinking ducks, assembled like boon companions round a 
puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. 

I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. My 
room soon became insupportable. I abandoned it, and 
sought what is technically called the travellers' room. This 
is a public room set apart at most inns for the accommoda- 
tion of a class of wayfarers, called travellers, or riders ; a 
kind of commercial knights errant, who are incessantly 
scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horseback, or by coach. 
They are the only successors that I know of, at the present 
day, to the knights errant of yore. They lead the same 
kind of roving adventurous life, only changing the lance for 
a driving-whip, the buckler for a pattern-card, and the coat 
of mail for an upper Benjamin. Instead of vindicating the 
charms of peerless beauty, they rove about, spreading the 
fame and standing of some substantial tradesman, or manu- 
facturer, and are ready at any time to bargain in his name ; 
it being the fashion now-a-days to trade, instead of fight, 
wilh one another. As the room of the hostel, in the good 
old fighting times, would be hung round at night with the 
armour of way-worn warriors, such as coats of mail, fal- 
chions, and yawning helmets; so the travellers' room is 
garnished with the harnessing of their successors, with box 
coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oil cloth covered 
hats. 

I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to talk 
with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, two or 
threo in the room ; but I could make nothing of them. One 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 31 

was just finishing breakfast, quarrelling with his bread and 
butter, and huffing the waiter ; another buttoned on a pair of 
gaiters, with many execrations of Boots for not having 
cleaned his shoes well ; a third sat drumming on the table 
with his fingers, and looking at the rain as it streamed down 
the window glass : they all appeared infected by the weather, 
and disappeared, one after the other, without exchanging a 
word. 

I sauntered to the window and stood gazing at the people, 
picking their way to the church, with petticoats hoisted 
midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell ceased to 
toll, and the streets became silent. I then amused myself 
with watching the daughters of a tradesman opposite ; who 
being confined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday 
finery, played ofi" their charms at the front windows, to fasci- 
nate the chance tenants of the inn. They at length were 
summoned away by a vigilant vinegar-faced mother, and I 
had nothing further from without to amuse me. 

What was 1 to do to pass away the long-lived day? I 
was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thing about an 
inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times duller. 
Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco smoke, and 
which I had already read half a dozen times. Good for 
nothing books, that were worse than rainy weather. I 
bored myself to death with an old volume of the Lady's 
Magazine. I read all the common-place names of ambitious 
travellers scrawled on the panes of glass ; the eternal fami- 
lies of the Smiths and the Browns, and the Jacksons, and 
the Johnsons, and all the other sons; and I deciphered 
several scraps of fatiguing inn-window poetry, which 1 have 
met with in all parts of the world. 

The day continued lowering and gloomy; the slovenly, 
ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along ; there was no 
variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, mono- 
tonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that now and then 
I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rat- 
tling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. 

It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hackneyed 
phrase of the day,) when, in the course of the morning, a 
horn blew, and a stage coach whirled through the street, 
with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under 



32 BEAUTIES OF 

cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking with the 
steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. 

The sound brought out from their lurking-places a crew 
of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the carroty- 
headed hostler, and that non-descript animal yclepted Boots, 
and all the other vagabond race, that infest the purlieus of 
an inn; but the bustle was transient; the coach again 
whirled on its way ; and boy and dog, hostler and Boots, all 
slunk back again to their holes ; the street again became 
silent, and the rain continued to rain on. In fact, there was 
no hope of its clearing up, the barometer pointed to rainy 
weather; mine hostess's tortoise shell cat sat by the fire 
washing her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears ; and, 
on referring to the Almanac, I found a direful prediction 
stretching from the top of the page to the bottom through 
the whole month, " expect — much — rain — about— rthis — 
time !" 



AN OBEDIENT HEN-PECKED HUSBAND. 

In that same village, and in one of these very houses, 
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and 
weather beaten,) there lived many years since, when the' 
country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good- 
natured fellow, of the name of Rjp Van Winkle. He was 
a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly 
in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy vesant, and accompanied 
him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, 
but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have 
observed that he was a simple good-natured man ; he was, 
moreover, a kind neighbour, and an obedient hen-pecked 
husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owino- 
that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal po- 
pularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and 
conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews 
at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and 
malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation, and a 
curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for 
teaching the virtues of patience and long suffering. A ter- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 33 

magant, wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered 
a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice 
blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favourite among all the 
good wives of the village, who, r-\ usual with the amiable 
sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and never failed, 
whenever they talked those matters over in their evening 
gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The 
children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever 
he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their play- 
things, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told 
them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. When- 
ever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded 
by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his 
back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; 
and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighbour- 
hood. 

The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable 
aversion to all kinds of profitable labour. It could not be 
from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would 
sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tar- 
tar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though 
he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would 
carry a fowling piece on his shoulder for hours together, 
trudging through woods and swamps, and up hill and down 
dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would 
never refuse to assist a neighbour even in the roughest toil, 
and was a foremost man at all country frolics tor husking 
Indian corn, or building stone fences ; the women of the 
village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to 
do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would 
not do for them. — In a word. Rip was ready to attend to any 
body's business but his own ; but as to doing family duty, 
and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm ; 
it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole 
country ; every thing about it went wrong, and would go 
wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling 
to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, or get among the 
cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his field 
than any where else ; the rain always made a point of set- 



34 BEAUTIES OF 

ting in just as he had some out-door work to do ; so that 
though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his 
management, acre by acre, until there was little more left 
than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was 
the worse conditioned farm in the neighbourhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in 
his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits with the 
old clothes of his father. He was generally seen trooping 
like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his 
father's cast off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold 
up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad 
weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the 
world easy, eat white bread or brown, which ever can be 
got with the least thought or trouble, and would rather 
starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself 
he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ; 
but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his 
idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on 
his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was in- 
cessantly going, and every thing he said or did was sure to 
produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one 
way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that by 
frequent use, had got into a habit. He shrugged his 
shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. 
This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from his 
wife ; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take 
to the outside of the house — the only side which, in truth, 
belongs to a henpecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was 
as much henpecked as his master ; for dame Van Winkle 
regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked 
upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's 
going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit be- 
fitting an honourable dog, he was as courageous an animal 
as ever scoured the woods — but what courage can withstand 
the ever-during and all besetting terrors of a woman's 
tongue? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest 
fell, his tail dropped to the ground or curled between his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 35 

legs, he sneaked about with ia gallows air, casting many 
a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least 
flourish of a broom-stick or ladle, he would fly to the door 
with yelping precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as 
years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows 
with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that 
grows keener with constant use. For a long while he used 
to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting 
a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and 
other idle personages of the village ; which held its sessions 
on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund 
portrait of His Majesty George the Third. Here they used 
to sit in the shade, of a long lazy summer's day, talking 
listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories 
about nothing. But it would have been worth any states- 
man's money to have heard the profound discussions that 
sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell 
into their hands from some passing traveller. How solemnly 
they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Der- 
rick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little 
man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word 
in the dictionary ; and how sagely they would deliberate 
upon public events some months after they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by 
Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord 
of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morn- 
ing till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and 
keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbours 
could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a 
sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but 
smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however, (for 
every great man has his adherents,) perfectly understood 
him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any 
thing that was read or related displeased him, he was ob- 
served to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth 
short, frequent and angry puffs ; bat when pleased, he 
would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in 
light and placid clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from 
his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, 
would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 



36 BEAUTIES OF 

From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip was at length 
routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break 
in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the* 
members all to nought; nor was that august personage, 
Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of 
this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encour- 
aging her husband in habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and his 
only alternative, to escape from the labour of the farm and 
clamour of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away 
into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at 
the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with 
Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in 
persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy mistress 
leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst 
I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee !" 
Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, 
and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the 
sentiment with all his heart. 



A DESIRABLE MATCH. 

Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening 
in each week, to receive his (Ichabod Crane's) instructions 
in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and 
only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a bloom- 
ing lass of fresh eighteen ; plump as a partridge ; ripe and 
melting and rosy cheeked as one of her father's peaches, 
and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her 
vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, 
as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mix- 
ture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set 
off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow 
gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over 
from Saardum ; the tempting stomacher of the olden time ; 
and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the 
prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. 

Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward the 
sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempting a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 37 

morsel soon found favour in his eyes ; more especially after 
he had visited her in her paternal mansion. Old Baltus 
Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, 
liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true, sent either 
his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own 
farm ; but within those every thing was snug, happy, and 
well conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth but not 
proud of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance, 
rather than the style in which he lived. His strong hold 
was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those 
grern, sheltered, fertile nooks, in which the Dutch farmers 
are so fond of nestling. A great elm-tree spread its broad 
branches over it ; at the foot of which bubbled up a spring 
of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well, formed of 
a barrel ; and then stole sparkling away through the grass, 
to a neighbouring brook, that babbled along among alders 
and dwarf willows. Hard by the farm house was a vast 
barn, that might have served for a church ; every window 
and crevice of which seemed burstino- forth with the trea- 
sures of the farm ; the flail was busily resounding within 
from morning to night ; swallows and martins skimmed 
twittering about the eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some with 
one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with 
their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, 
and others swelling and cooing and bowing, about their 
dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek 
unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abun- 
dance of their pens ; from whence sallied forth, now and 
then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately 
squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, 
convoying whole fleets of ducks ; regiments of turkeys 
were gobbling through the farm-yard, and guinea fowls 
fretting about it, like ill-tempered house-wives, with their 
peevish discontented cry. Before the barn door strutted the 
gallant cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a 
fine gentleman ; clapping his burnished wings, and crowing 
in the pride and gladness of his heart— sometimes tearing 
up the earth with his feet, and then generously calling his 
hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich 
morsel which he had discovered. 

The pedagogue's mouth watered, as he looked upon this 

4 



38 BEAUTIES OF 

sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his de- 
vouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every roasting 
pig running about with a pudding in its belly and an 
apple in its mouth ; the pigeons were snugly pnt to bed in 
a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of crust ; 
the geese were swimming in their own gravy ; and the 
ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, 
with a decent competency of onion sauce. In the porkers 
he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy 
relishing ham ; not a turkey, but he beheld daintily trussed 
up, with its gizzard under its wing, and peradventure, a neck- 
lace of savoury sausages ; and even bright chanticleer 
himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, with up- 
lifted claws as if craving that quarter, which his chivalric 
spirit disdained to ask while living. 

As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 
rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, the 
rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, 
and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, which sur- 
rounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart yearned 
after the damsel who was to inherit these domains, and his 
imagination expanded with the idea, how they might be 
readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immense 
tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. 
Nay, his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and pre- 
sented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of 
children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with house- 
hold trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and 
he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at 
her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord 
knows where. 

A Rival. 

Among these the most formidable w^as a burly, roaring, 
roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or according to 
the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the 
country round, which rung mth his feats of strength and 
hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double jointed, 
with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant 
countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 39 

From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he 
had received the nick-name of Brom Bones, by which he 
was universally known. He was famed for great know- 
ledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on 
horseback, as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and 
cockfights ,* and, with the ascendency which bodily strength 
always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, 
setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an 
air and tone that admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He 
was always ready for either a fight or a frolic ; had more 
mischief than ill-will in his composition ; and with all his 
overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of 
waggish good humour at bottom. He had three or four 
boon companions of his own stamp, who regarded him as 
their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the coun- 
try, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles 
round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fiir cap, 
surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail ; and when the folks 
at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a 
distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, 
they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew 
would be heard dashing along past the farm houses at mid- 
night, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossack's; 
and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen 
for a moment till the hurry-skurry had clattered by, and 
then exclaim, " Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" 
The neighbours looked upon him with a mixture of awe,, 
admiration, and good-will ; and when any mad-cap prank, 
or rustic brawl, occurred in the vicinity, always shook 
their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom 
of it. 

This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the 
blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, 
and though his amorous toyings were something like the 
gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was 
whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. 
Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates 
to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his 
amours ; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to 
Van Tassel's paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that 
his master was courting, or as it is termed, " sparking," 



40 BEAJUTIES OF 

within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried 
the war into other quarters. 

Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane 
had to contend, and, considering all things, a stouter man, 
than he would have shrunk from the competition, and a 
wiser man would have despaired. He had a happy mixture 
of pliability and perseverance in his nature ; he was in form 
and spirit like a supple jack — yielding, but tough ; though 
he bent, he never broke ; and though he bowed, beneath 
the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away, jerk I — 
he was erect, and carried his head as high as ever. 

Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, 
would fain have carried matters to open warfare, and have 
settled their pretensions to the lady, according to the mode 
of those most concise and simple reasoners, the knights- 
errant of yore — by single combat ; but Ichabod was too 
conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter 
the lists against him : he had overheard the boast of Bones, 
that he would " double the schoolmaster up, and put him 
on a shelf;" and he was too wary to give him an oppor- 
tunity. There was something extremely provoking in this 
obstinately pacific system ; it left Brom no alternative but 
to draw upon the funds of rustic wagger}?" in his disposition, 
and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Icha- 
bod became the object of whimsical persecution to Bones, 
and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto 
^peaceful domains; smoked out his singing school, by stop- 
ping up the chimney ; broke into the schoolhouse at night, 
in spite of his formidable fastenings of withes and window 
stakes, and turned every thing topsy-turvy ; so that the 
poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the 
country held their meetings there. But what was still 
more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him 
into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel 
dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, 
and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's to instruct her in 
psalmody. 

t^n Invitation. 

In this way matters went on for some time, without pro- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 41 

ducing any material effect on the relative situations of the 
contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, 
in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool from 
whence he usually watched all the concerns of his little 
literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that 
sceptre of despotic power ; the birch of justice reposed on 
three nails, behind a throne, a constant terror to evil doers ; 
whilst on the desk before him might be seen sundry con- 
traband articles and prohibited weapons, detected upon the 
persons of idle urchins; such as half-munched apples, pop- 
guns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant 
little paper game cocks. Apparently there had been some 
appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars 
were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering 
behind them with one eye kept upon the master ; and a 
kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the school- 
room. It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a 
negro in tow cloth jacket and trowsers, a round crowned 
fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted 
on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he 
managed with a rope by way of halter. He came clattering 
up to the school door with an invitation to Ichabod to at- 
tend a merry meeting, or " quilting frolic," to be held that 
evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's ; and having delivered 
his message with that air of importance, and effort at fine 
language, which a negro is apt to display on petty embassies 
of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scamp- 
ering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry 
of his mission. 

All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school- 
room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, 
without stopping at trifles ; those who were nimble, skip- 
ped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy, 
had a smart application now and then in the rear, to 
quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books 
were flung aside, without being put away on the shelves ; 
inkstands were overturned ; benches thrown down ; and 
the whole school was turned loose an hour before the 
usual time; bursting forth like a legion of young imps, 
yelping and racketting about the green, in joy at their early 

emancipation. 

4# 



42 BEAUTIES OP 

A Dutch, Entei'tainment 

Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and 
" sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of a 
range of hills which looked out upon some of the goodliest 
scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled 
his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of the 
Tappean Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that 
here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the 
blue shadow of the distant mountain. A fhw amber clouds 
floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. 
The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually 
into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep blue of 
the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody 
crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the 
river, giving greater depth to the dark gray and purple of 
their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, 
dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging use- 
lessly against the mast ; and as the reflection of the sky 
gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was 
suspended in the air. 

It was towards evening that Ichabod arrived at the castlo 
of the lieer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the 
pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old farmers, a 
spare leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, 
blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. 
Their brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps, 
long-waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and 
pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside. 
Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, except- 
ing where a straw hat, a fine riband, or perhaps a white 
frock, gave symptoms of city innovations. The sons, in 
short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass 
buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of 
the times, especially if they could procure an eelskin for the 
purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country, as a po- 
tent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. 

Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having 
come to the gathering on his favourite steed Dare-devil, a 
creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which 
no one but himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 43 

for preferring vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks 
which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held 
a tractable well broken horse as unworthy a lad of spirit. 

Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms 
that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he en- 
tered the state parlour of Van Tassel's mansion. Not those 
of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of 
red and white ; but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch 
country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such 
heaped up platters of cakes, of various and almost indescrib- 
able kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives ! 
There was the doughty dough-nut, the tenderer oly koek, 
and the crisp and crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short 
cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family 
of cakes. And then there were apple pies, and peach pies, 
and pumpkin pies; besides slices of ham and smoke beef; 
and moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and 
peaches, and pears, and quinces; not to mention broiled shad 
and roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and 
cream; all mingled higgeldy-piggekly, pretty much as I 
have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot sending up 
its clouds of vapour from the midst— Heaven bless the 
mark I I want breath and time to discuss this banquet as it 
deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Hap- 
pily Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his histo- 
rian, but did ample justice to every dainty. 

He v/as a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated 
in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer; and 
whose spirits rose with eating as some men's do with drink. 
He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as 
he ate, and chuckling v/ith the possibility that he might one 
day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury 
and splendour. Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his 
back upon the old school house ; snap his finger in the face 
of Hans Van Ripper^ and every other niggardly patron, and 
kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare 
to call him comrade ! 

Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests 
with a face dilated with content and good humour, round 
and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions 
were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of the 



44 BEAUTIES OF 

hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing 
invitation to " fall to, and help themselves." 

Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon 
his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was 
idle; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, 
and clattering about the room, you would have thought Saint 
Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring 
before you in person. He was the admiration of all the 
negroes ; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from 
the farm and the neighbourhood, stood forming a pyramid of 
shining black faces at every door and window ; gazing with 
delight at the scene; rolling their white eye-balls, and 
showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could 
the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joy- 
ous 1 the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and 
smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while 
Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat 
brooding by himself in one corner. 



WAR. 



The first conflict between man and man was the mere ex- 
ertion of physical force, unaided by auxiliary weapons, — 
his arm was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a broken 
head the catastrophe of his encounters. The battle of unas- 
sisted strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of 
stones and clubs, and war assumed a sanguinary aspect. As 
man advanced in refinement, as his faculties expanded, and 
his sensibilities became more exquisite, he grew rapidly 
more ingenious and experienced in the art of murdering his 
fellow beings. He invented a thousand devices to defend 
and to assault — the helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the 
sword, the dart, and the javelin, prepared him to elude the 
wound, as well as to launch the blow. Still urging on, in 
the brilliant and philanthropic career of invention, he en- 
larges and heightens his powers of defence and injury. — The 
aries, the scorpio, the balista, and the catapulta, give a horror 
and sublimity to war; and magnify its glory, by increasing 
its desolation. Still insatiable, though armed with machinery 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 45 

that seemed to reach the limits of destructive invention, and 
to yield a power of injury, commensurate even with the 
desires of revenge — still deeper researches must be made in 
the diabolical arcana. With furious zeal he dives into the 
bowels of the earth ; he toils midst poisonous minerals and 
deadly salts — the sublime discovery of gunpowder blazes 
upon the world — and, finally, the dreadful art of fighting by 
proclamation seems to endow the demon of war with ubi- 
quity and omnipotence. 

This, indeed, is grand! — this, indeed, marks the powers 
of mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of reason, 
which distinguishes us from the animals, our inferiors. 
The unenlightened brutes content themselves with the native 
force which providence has assigned them. The angry bull 
butts with his horns, as did his progenitors before him — the 
lion, the leopard, and the tiger, seek only with their talons 
and their fangs to gratify their sanguinary fury ; and even 
the subtle serpent darts the same venom, and uses the same 
wiles as did his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed 
with the inventive mind, goes on from discovery to disco- 
very—enlarges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; 
arrogates the tremendous weapons of Deity itself, and tasks 
creation to assist him in murdering his brother worm. 



ENGLISH STAGE COACHMEN. 

And here, perhaps, it may^not be unacceptable to my un- 
travelled readers to have a sketch that may serve as a gene- 
ral representation of this very numerous and important 
class of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, a lan- 
guage, an air, peculiar to themselves, and prev-alent through- 
out the fraternity : so that, whenever an English stage 
Coachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of 
any other craft or mystery. 

He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled 
with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding 
into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled into jolly dimen- 
sions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is 
still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he 



46 BEAUTIES or 

is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching fo his 
heels. He wears a broad- brimmed low-crowned hat; a 
huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his neck, know- 
ingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom ; and has, in sum- 
mer time, a large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole ; the 
present, most probably, of some enamoured country lass. 
His waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, striped, 
and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a 
pair of jocky boots which reach about halfway up his legs. 
All this costume is maintained with much precision ; he 
has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials ; and 
notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, 
there is still descernible that neatness and propriety of 
person, which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He 
enjoys great consequence and consideration along the road ; 
has frequent conferences with the village house-wives, who 
look upon him as a man of great trust and dependence ; and 
he seems to have a good understanding with every bright- 
eyed country lass. The moment he arrives where the 
horses are to be chanj^ed, he throws dov/n the reins with 
something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of 
the hostler ; his duty being merely to drive from one stage 
to another. When off the box, his bands are thrust into 
the pockets of his great coat, and he rolls about the inn 
yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he 
is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of hostlers, 
stable-boys, shoeblacks, and those nameless hangers-on, that 
infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kind of 
odd jobs for the privilege of battening on the drippings of 
the kitchen and the leakage of the tap-room. These all 
look up to him as to an oracle ; treasure up his cant phra- 
ses ; echo his opinions about horses and other topics of 
jocky lore ; and above all endeavour to imitate his air and 
carriagd. Every ragamuffin that has a coat to his back, 
thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slangs 
and is an embryo Coachey. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 47 



THE WALTZ. 



As many of the retired matrons of this city, unskilled in 
** gestic lore," are doubtless ignorant of the movements and 
figures of this modest exhibition, I will endeavour to give 
some account of it in order that they may learn what odd 
capers their daughters sometimes cut when from under their 
guardian wings.— On a signal being given by the music, 
the gentleman seizes the lady round her waist ; the lady 
scorning to be out-done in courtesy, very politely takes the 
gentleman round the neck, with one arm resting against his 
shoulder to prevent encroachments. Away then they go, 
about, and about, and about — " About what, sirl" — About 
the room, madam, to be sure. The whole economy of this 
dance consists in turnino- round and round the room in a 
certain measured step, and it is truly astonishing that this 
continued revolution does not set all their heads swimming 
like a top ; but I have been positively assured that it only 
occasions a gentle sensation which is marvellously agreeable. 
In the course of this circumnavigation, the dancers, in order 
to give the charm of variety are continually changing their 
relative situations, — now the gentleman, meaning no harm 
in the world, I assure you, madam, carelessly flings his arm 
about the lady's neck, with an air of celestial impudence ; 
and anon, the lady, meaning as little harm as the gentle- 
man, takes him round the waist with most ingenious modest 
languishment, to the great delight of numerous spectators 
and amateurs, who generally form a ring, as the mob do 
about a pair of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of fight- 
ing mastiffs. — After continuing this divine interchange of 
hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady be- 
gins to tire, and " with eyes upraised," in most bewitching 
languor, petitions her partner for a little more support. 
This is always given without hesitation. The lady leans 
gently on his shoulder ; their arms entwine in a thousand 
seducing, mischievous curves — don't be alarmed madam — 
closer and closer they approach each other, and in conclu- 
sion, the parties beino; overcome with ecstatic fatigue, the 
lady seems almost sinking into the gentleman's arms, and 

then " Well, sir ! what then !" — Lord ! madam how 

should I know. 



BEAUTIES OF 



DUTCH TEA PARTIES, 



These fashionable parties were generally consigned to 
the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as kept 
their own cows, and drove their own wagons. The com- 
pany commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went 
away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the 
fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might 
get home before dark. I do not find that they ever treated 
their company to iced creams, jellies, or syllabubs; or re- 
galed them with musty almonds, mouldy raisins, or sour 
oranges, as is often done in the present age of refinement. 
Our ancestors were fond of more sturdy, substantial fare. 
The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well 
stored with slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into 
morsels and swimming in gravy. The company being 
seated round the genial board, and each furnished with a 
fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest 
pieces in this mighty dish, in much the same manner as 
sailors harpoon porpoiK^es at sea, or our Indians spear salmon 
on the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with immense 
apple pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears ; 
but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of 
sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called dough nuts, 
or oly keoks : a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce 
known in this city, excepling in genuine Dutch families. 

The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, orna- 
mented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shep- 
herdesses, tending pigs— -v/ith boats sailing in the air, and 
houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch 
fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their 
adroitness in replenishing this pot, from a huge copper tea- 
kettle, which would have made the pigmy macaronies of 
these degenerate days sweat, merely to look at it. To 
sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each 
cup — and the company, alternately nibbled and sipped with 
great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a 
shrewd and economic old lady, which was to suspend a 
large lump directly over the tea-table, by a string from the 
ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth, — 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 49 

an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some fami- 
jies in Albany ; but which prevails without exception in 
Communipaw, Bergen, Flat-Bush, and all our uncontami- 
nated Dutch villages. 

At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and 
dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting 
— no gambling ofold ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romp- 
ing of young ones — no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy 
gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets ; nor amusing 
conceits, and monkey divertisements of smart young gentle- 
men with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies 
seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, 
and knit their own woollen stockings ; nor ever opened their 
lips, excepting to say yah Mynheer^ or yah ya Yrouw, to 
any question that was asked them ; behaving, in all things, 
like decent well educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, 
each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost 
in contemplation of the blue and white tiles, with which the 
fire places were decorated ; wherein sundry passages of 
Scripture were piously portrayed : Tobit and his dog figur- 
ed to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuously on his 
gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully bouncing out of 
the whale, like harlequin through a barrel of fire. 

The parties broke up without noise and without confu- 
sion. They were carried home by their own carriages, 
that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, 
excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a 
wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones 
to their respective abodes, and took leave of them with a 
hearty smack at the door : which, as it was an established 
piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity and honesty of 
heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, nor should it at 
the present — if our great grandfathers approved of the cus- 
tom, it would argue a great want of reverence in their de- 
scendants to sav a word agrainst it. 

5 



BEAUTIE8 OP 



COSMOGONY, 



Or Creation of the World ; with a multitude of excellent 
Theories, by which the Creation of a World is shown 
to be no such difficult Matter as common Folks would 
imagine. 

Having thus briefly introduced my reader into the world, 
and given him some idea of its form and situation, he will 
naturally be curious to know from whence it came, and how 
it was created. And indeed the clearing up of these points 
is absolutely essential to my history, inasmuch as if this 
world had not been formed, it is more than probable, that 
this renowned island, on which is situated the city of New 
York, would never have had an existence. The regular 
course of my history, therefore, requires that T should pro- 
ceed to notice the cosmogony or formation of this our globe. 

And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am about 
to plunge for a chapter or two, into as complete a labyrinth 
as ever historian was perplexed withal ; therefore, I advise 
them to take fast hold of my skirts, and keep close at my 
heels, venturing neither to the right hand nor to the left, 
lest they get bemired in a slough of unintelligible learning, 
or have their brains knocked out by some of those hard 
Greek names which will be flying about in all directions. 
But should any of them be too indolent or chicken-hearted 
to accompany me in this perilous undertaking, they had 
better take a short cut round, and wait for me at the begin- 
ning of some smoother chapter. 

Of the creation of the world we have a thousand contra- 
dictory accounts ; and though a very satisfactory one is 
furnished by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels 
himself in honour bound to furnish us with a better. As an 
impartial historian, I consider it my duty to notice their 
several theories by which mankind have been so exceedingly 
edified and instructed. 

Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that the 
earth and the whole system of the universe was the deify 
himself;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained by Zeno- 



* Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap. 3. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 51 

phanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by Strabo and 
the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Pythagoras likewise 
inculcated the famous numerical system of the monad, dyad, 
and triad ; and by means of his sacred quaternary elucida- 
ted the formation of the world, the arcana of nature, and 
the principles both of music and morals.* Other sages 
adhered to the mathematical system of squares and trian- 
gles ; the cube, the pyramid, and the sphere ; the tetrahe- 
dron, the octahedron, the icosahedron, and the dodecahe- 
dron. f While others advocated the great elementary theory, 
which refers the construction of our globe and all that it 
contains to the combinations of four material elements, air, 
earth, fire, and water ; with the assistance of a fifth, an im- 
material and vivifying principle. 

Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system 
taught by old Moschus before the siege of Troy; revived 
by Democritus of laughing memory; improved by Epicurus, 
that king of good fellows ; and modernized by the fanciful 
Descartes. But I decline inquiring whether the atoms, of 
which the earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent ; 
whether they are animated or inanimate ; whether, agree- 
ably to the opinions of Athesits, they were fortuitously 
aggregated ; or, as the Theists maintain, were arranged by 
a supreme intelligence.:}: Whether, in fact, the earth be an 
insensate clod, or whether it be animated by a soul ;|| which 
opinion was strenuously maintained by a host of philosophers, 
at the head of whom stands the great Pi to, that temperate 
sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy on the form of 
sexual intercourse, and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic 
love — an exquisitely refined intercourse, but much better 
adapted to the ideal inhabitants of his imaginary island of 
Atlantis than to the sturdy race, composed of rebellious flesh 
and blood, which populates the little matter of fact island 
we inhabit. 

Besides these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical 

* Avistot. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 5. Idem de Coelo, 1. iii. c. 1. Tlousseau. Mem. sup 
Musique Ancien. p. 39. Plutarch de Plae. Pliilos. lib. i. cap. 3. 

i" Tim. Locr. ap. Plato t. iii. p. 90. 

$ Aristot. Nat. Auseult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aiistoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 3. Cic. de 
Nat. Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. Orat. ad Gent. p. 20. 

II Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de Auim. Mund. ap. Plat. lib. iii. Mem. 
de I'Aead. des Bellea Lettres, t. xxxii. p. 19 et al. 



52 BEAUTIES OF 

theogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole universe 
in the regular mode of procreation, and the plausible opinion 
of others, that the earth was hatched from the great egg of 
night, which floated in chaos, and was cracked by the horns 
of the celestial bull. To illustrate this last doctrine^ Burnet ^ 
in his theory of the earth,* has favoured os with an accurate 
drawing and description both of the form and texture of this 
mundane egg ; which is found to bear a near resemblance 
to that of a goose. Such of my readers as take a proper 
interest in the origin of this our planet will be pleased to 
learn, that the most profound sages of antiquity, among the 
Egyptians, Chaldeans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, have 
alternately assisted at the hatching of this strange bird ; and 
that their cacklings have been caught and continued, in 
different tones and inflections, from philosopher to philoso- 
pher, unto the present day- 

But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of 
ancient sages, let me not pass over, with neglect, those of 
other philosophers ; which, though less universal than re- 
nowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal chance 
for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brahmins, in 
the pages of their inspired Shastah, that the angel Bistnoo 
transformed himself into a great boar, plunged into the 
watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his tusks. Then 
issued from him a mighty tortoise, and a mighty snake ; 
and Bistnoo placed the snake erect upon the back of the 
tortoise, and he placed the earth upon the head of the 
snake.f 

The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that the world 
was made by the hands of angels, excepting their own 
country, which the supreme being constructed himself, that 
it might be supremely excellent. And he took great pains 
with the inhabitants, and made them very black and beauti- 
ful ; and when he had finished the first man, he was well 
pleased with him, and smoothed him over the face, and 
hence his nose, and the nose of all his descendants, became 
flat. 

The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman 
fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her upon its 

* Book i. ch. 5. t Hohvell, Gent Philosophy. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 53 

back, because every place was covered with water ; and, 
that the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, paddled with her 
hands in the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally 
happened that the earth became higher than the water. '" 

But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient and 
outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in 
despite of ail their erudition, compelled them to write in 
languages, which but few of my readers can understand ; 
and I shall proceed briefly to notice a few more intelligible 
and fashionable theories of their modern successors. 

And first I shall mention the great Buffon, who conjectures 
that this globe was originally a globe of liquid fire, scintilla- 
ted from the body of the sun, by the percussion of a comet, 
as a spark is generated by the collision of flint and steel. 
That at first it was surrounded by gross vapours, which 
cooling and condensing in process of time, constituted, 
according to their densities, earth, water, and air; which 
gradually arranged themselves, according to their respective 
gravities, round the burning or vitrified m ss that ibrmed 
their centre. 

Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at first 
were universally paramount: and he terrifies himself with 
the idea that the earth must be eventually washed away by 
the force of rains, rivers, and mountain torrents, until it is 
confounded with the ocean, or, in other words, absolutely 
dissolves into itself. — Sublime idea! far surpassing that of 
the tender hearted damsel of antiquity, who wept herself 
into a fountain ; or the good dame of Narbonne in France, 
who, for a volubility of tongue unusual in her sex, was 
doomed to peel five hundred thousand and thirty-nine ropes 
of onions, and actually ran out at her eyes before half the 
hideous task was accomplished. 

Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled 
Ditton in his researches after the longitude, (for which the 
mischief-loving Swift discharged on their heads, a most 
savoury stanza,) has distinguished liimself by a very admi- 
rable theory respecting the earth. He conjectures that it 
was originally a chaotic comet, which, being selected for 
the abode of man, was removed from its eccentric orbit, and 

* Johnannes Megapolensisj jun. Account of Jfaquaas or Mohawk Indians. 1644. 

5* 



54 BEAUTIES OF 

whirled round the sun in its present regular motion ; by 
which change of direction, order succeeded to confusion in 
the arrangement of its component parts. The philosopher 
adds, that the deluge was produced by an uncourteous salute 
from the watery tail of another comet ; doubtless through 
sheer envy of its improved condition ; thus furnishing a 
melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail, even among 
the heavenly bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial 
harmony of the spheres, so melodiously sung by the poets. 

But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among 
which are those of Burnet, and Woodward, and Whitehurst; 
regretting extremely that m}?^ time will not suffer me to give 
them the notice they deserve — And shall conclude with that 
of the renowned Dr. Darwin. This learned Theban, who is 
as much distinguished for rhyme as reason, and for good 
natured credulity as serious research ; and who has recom- 
mended himself wonderfully to the good graces of the ladies, 
by letting them into all the gallantries, amours, debauche- 
ries, and other topics of scandal of the court of Flora, has 
fallen upon a theory worthy of his combustible imagination. 
According to his opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a 
sudden occasion to explode, like a barrel of gunpowder, and, 
in that act, exploded the sun — which, in its flight, by a 
similar convulsion exploded the earth — which in like guise 
exploded the moon — and thus, by a concatenation of explo- 
sions, the whole solar system was produced and set most 
systematically in motion.* 

By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every 
one of which, if thoroughly examined, will be found sur- 
prisingly consistent in all its parts, my unlearned readers 
will perhaps be led to conclude, that the creation of a world 
is not so diificult a task as thev at first imasjined. I have 
shown at least a score of ingenious methods in which a 
world could be constructed ; and 1 have no doubt, that had 
any of the philosophers above quoted the use of a good 
manageable comet, and the philosophical warehouse, chaosy 
at his command, he would engage to manufacture a planet, 
as good, or, if you would take his word for it, better than 
this we inhabit. 

And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of provi- 

* Daiw. Dot. Ganitii. Far! lean'. I. 1. 1C5. 



WASHINGTON IRTING. 55 

dence, in creating comets for the great relief of bewildered 
philosophers. By their assistance more sudden evolutions 
and transitions are effected in the system of nature, than 
are wrought in a pantomimic exhibition, by the wonder- 
working sword of harlequin. Should one of our modern 
sages, in his theoretical flights among the stars, ever find 
himself lost in the clouds, and in danger of tumbling into 
the abyss of nonsense and absurdity, he has but to seize a 
comet by the beard, mount astride of its tail, and away he 
gallops in triumph, like an enchanter on his hippogriff, or 
a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, " to sweep the cob- 
webs out of the sky." 

It is an old and vulgar saying, about a " beggar on horse- 
back," which I would not for the world have applied to 
these reverend philosophers : but I must confess, that some 
of them, when they are mounted on one of those fiery 
steeds, are as wild in their curvetings as was Phaeton, of 
yore, when he aspired to manage the chariot of Phoebus. 
One drives his comet at full speed against the sun, and 
knocks the world out of him with mighty concussion ; ano- 
ther, more moderate, makes his comet a kind of beast of 
burden, carrying the sun a regular supply of food and fag- 
gots ; a third of more combustible disposition, threatens to 
throw his comet, like a bombshell, into the world, and blow 
it up like a powder magazine ; while a fourth, with no great 
delicacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insinuates that 
some day or other his comet — my modest pen blushes while 
I write it — shall absolutely turn tail upon the world and 
deluge it with water! — Surely, as I have already observed, 
comets were bountifully provided by providence for the bene- 
fit of philosophers to assist them in manufacturing theories. 

And now, having adduced several of the most prominent 
theories that occur to my recollection, I leave my judicious 
readers at full liberty to choose among them. They are 
all serious speculations of learned men — all differ essential- 
ly from each other — and all have the same title to belief. 
It has ever been the task of one race of philosophers to de- 
molish the works of their predecessors, and elevate more 
splendid fantasies in their stead, which, in their turn, are de- 
molished and replaced by the air-castles of a succeeding 
generation. Thus it would seem that knowledge and ge- 
nius, of which we make such great parade, consist but in 



66 , BEAUTIES OF 

detecting the errors and absurdities of those who have gone 
before, and devising new errors and absurdities, to be de- 
tected by those who are to come after us. Theories are 
the mighty soap-bubbles with which the grown-up children 
of science amuse themselves ; while the honest vulgar stand 
gazing in stupid admiration, and dignify these learned va- 
garies with the name of wisdom. — Surely Socrates was 
right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a sober sort 
of madmen, busying themselves in things totally incompre- 
hensible, or which, if they could be comprehended, would 
be found not worthy the trouble of discovery. 

For my own part, until the learned have come to an 
agreement among themselves, I shall content myself with 
the account handed down to us by Moses ; in which I do 
but follow the example of our ingenious neighbours of Con- 
necticut ; who at their first settlement proclaimed, that the 
colony should be governed by the laws of God — until they 
had time to make better. 

One thing however appears certain — from the unanimous 
authority of the before quoted philosophers, supported by 
the evidence of our own senses, (which, though very apt to 
deceive us, may be cautiously admitted as additional testi- 
mony,) it appears, I say, and 1 make the assertion deliber- 
ately, without fear of contradiction, that this globe really 
was created, and that it is composed of land and loater. 
It further appears that it is curiously divided and parcelled 
out into continents and islands, among which I boldly de- 
clare the renowned island of new york will be found by 
any one who seeks for it in its proper place. 



DUTCH LEGISLATORS. 

And now the infant settlement having advanced in age 
and stature, it was thought high time it should receive an 
honest Christian name, and it was accordingly called New- 
Amsterdam. It is true there were some advocates for the 
original Indian name, and many of the best writers of the 
province did long continue to call it by the title of " The 
Manhattoes," but this was discountenanced by the authori- 
ties, as being heathenish and savage. Besides, it was con- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 57 

sidered an excellent and praiseworthy measure lo name it 
after a great city of the old world ; as by that means it 
was induced to emulate the greatness and renown of its 
namesake — in the manner that little snivelling urchins are 
called after great statesmen, saints, and worthies, and re- 
nowned generals of yore, upon which they all industriously 
copy their examples, and come to be very mighty men in 
their day and generation. 

The thriving state of the settlement and the rapid in- 
crease of houses gradually awakened the good OlofFe from 
a deep lethargy, into which he had fallen after the building 
of the fort. He now began to think it was time some plan 
should be devised on which the increasing town should be 
built. Summoning, therefore, his counsellors and coadju- 
tors together, they took pipe in mouth, and forthwith sunk 
into a very sound deliberation on the subject. 

At the very outset of the business an unexpected differ- 
ence of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sor- 
rowing, as being the first altercation on record in the 
councils of New-Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth of 
the grudge and heartburning that had existed between 
those two eminent burghers. Mynheers Tenbroeck and 
Hardenbroeck, ever since their unhappy altercation on 
the coast of Bellevue. The great Hardenbroeck had wax- 
ed very wealthy and powerful from his domains, which 
embraced the whole chain of Apulean mountains that 
stretch along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and from part of which 
his descendants have been expelled in latter ages by the 
powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermerhornes. 

An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer 
Tenbroeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and in- 
tersected by canals, after the manner of the most admired 
cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Hardenbroeck was 
diametrically opposed, suggesting in place thereof that they 
should run out docks and wharves by means of piles, driven 
into the bottom of the river, on which the town should be 
built. " By these means," said he triumphantly, " shall 
we rescue a considerable space of territory from these im- 
mense rivers, and build a city that shall rival Amsterdam, 
Venice, or any amphibious city in Europe." To this pro- 
position Tenbroeck (or Ten Breeches) replied, with a look 



58 BEAUTIES OF 

of as much scorn as he could possibly assume. He cast the 
utmost censure upon the plan of his antagonist as being 
preposterous, and against the very order of things, as he 
would leave to every true Hollander. " For what," said 
he, " is a town without canals 1 — -It is like a body without 
veins and arteries, and must perish for want of a free cir- 
culation of the vital fluid." Tough Breeches on the con- 
trary, retorted with a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who 
was somewhat of an arid, dry boned habit ; he remarked, 
that as to the circulation of the blood being necessary to ex- 
istence. Mynheer Ten Breeches was a living contradiction to 
his own assertion ; for every body knew there had not a 
drop of blood circulated through his wind-dried carcass for 
good ten years, and yet there was not a greater busybody 
in the whole colony. Personalities have seldom much ef- 
fect in making converts in argument ; nor have I ever seen 
a man convinced of error by being convicted of deformity. 
At least, such was not the case at present. Ten Breeches 
was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough Breeches, who 
was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word, 
rejoined with increasing spirit — Ten Breeches had the ad- 
vantage of the greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches had 
that invaluable coat of mail in argument called obstinacy — 
Ten Breeches had, therefore, the most metal, but Tough 
Breeches the best bottom — so that though Ten Breeches 
made a dreadful clattering about his ears, and battered and 
belaboured him with hard words and sound arguments; 
yet Tough Breeches hung on most resolutely to the last. 
They parted, therefore, as is usual in all arguments where 
both parties are in the right, without coming to any conclu- 
sion ; but they hated each other most heartily for ever af- 
ter, and a similar breach with that between the houses of 
Capulet and Montague did ensue between the families of 
Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. 

1 would not fatigue my reader v/ith these dull mattei's of 
fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian requires that I 
should be particular; and, in truth, as I am now treating of 
the critical period, when our city, like a young twig first 
received the twists and turns, that have since contributed to 
give it the present picturesque irregularity for which it is 
celebrated, I cannot be too minute in detailing their first' 
causes. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 59 

After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I 
do not find that any thing further was said on the subject 
worthy of being recorded. The council, consisting of the 
largest and oldest heads in the community, met regularly 
once a-week, to ponder on this monstrous subject ; but 
either they were deterred by the war of words they had 
witnessed, or they were naturally averse to the exercise of 
the tongue, and the consequent exercise of the brain — cer- 
tain it is, the most profound silence was maintained — the 
question, as usual, lay on the table — the members quietly 
smoked their pipes, making but few laws, without ever en- 
forcing any, and in the mean time the affairs of the settle- 
ment went on — as it pleased God. 

As most of the council were but little skilled in the mys- 
tery of combining pothooks and hangers, they determined, 
most judiciously, not to puzzle either themselves or poste- 
rity with voluminous records. The secretary however, 
kept the minutes of the council with tolerable precision, in a 
lar^e vellum folio, fastened with massy brass clasps ; the 
journal of each meeting consisted but of two lines, stating 
in Dutch, that " the council sat this day, and smoked twelve 
pipes on the affairs of the colony." By which it appears 
that the first settlers did not regulate their time by hours, 
but pipes, in the same manner as they measure distances in 
Holland at this very time ; an admirably exact measure- 
ment, as the pipe in the mouth of a true born Dutchman is 
never liable to those accidents and irregularities that are 
continually putting our clocks out of order. 

In this manner did the profound council of New-Am- 
sterdam smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week to week, 
month to month, and year to year, in what manner they 
should construct their infant settlement ; meanwhile, the 
town took care of itself, and like a sturdy brat which 
is suffered to run about wild, unshackled by clouts and 
bandages, and other abominations, by which your notable^ 
nurses and sage old women cripple and disfigure the child- 
ren of men, increased so rapidly in strength and magnitude, 
that before the honest burgomasters had determined upon a 
plan, it was too late to put it in execution- — whereupon they 
wisely abandoned the subject altogether. 



60 BEAUTIES or 



THE LITTLE MAN IN BLACK. 

The following story has been handed down by a family 
tradition for more than a century. It is one on which my 
cousin Christopher dwells with more than usual prolixity ; 
and, being in some measure connected with a personage 
often quoted in our work, I have thought it worthy of being 
laid before my readers. 

Soon after my grandfather, Mr. Lemuel Cockloft, had 
quietly seated himself at the Hall, and just about the time 
that the gossips of the neighbourhood, tired of prying into 
his affairs, were anxious for some new tea-table topic, the 
busy community of our little village was thrown into a 
grand turmoil of curiosity and conjecture — a situation very 
common to little gossipping villages — by the sudden and 
unaccountable appearance of a mysterious individual. 

The object of this solicitude was a little black-looking 
man, of a foreign aspect, who took possession of an old 
building, which having long had the reputation of being 
haunted, was in a state of ruinous desolation, and an object 
of fear to all true believers in Ghosts. He usually wore a 
high sugar loaf hat with a narrow brim, and a little black 
cloak, which, short as he was, scarcely reached below his 
knees. He sought no intimacy or acquaintance with any 
one — appeared to take no interest in the pleasures or the 
little broils of the village — nor ever talked, except some- 
times to himself in an outlandish tongue. He commonly 
carried a large book, covered with sheepskin, under his arm, 
appeared always to be lost in meditation — and was often 
met by the peasantry, sometimes watching the dawning of 
the day, sometimes at noon seated under a tree poring over 
his volume, and sometimes at evening gazing with a look 
of sober tranquillity, at the sun as it gradually sunk below 
the horizon. 

The good people. of the vicinity beheld something prodi- 
giously singular in all this ; a profound mystery seemed to 
hang about the stranger, which, with all their sagacity, 
they could not penetrate; and in the excess of worldly cha- 
rity they pronounced it a sure sign " that he was no better 
than he should be ;" a phrase innocent enough in itself; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 61 

but which, as applied in common, signifies nearly every 
thing that is bad. The young people thought him a gloomy 
misanthrope, because he never joined in their sports ; the 
old men thought still more hardly of him, because he fol- 
lowed no trade, nor ever seemed ambitious of earning a 
farthing ; and as to the old gossips, baffled by the inflexible 
taciturnity of the stranger, they unanimously declared that 
a man who could not or would not talk was no better than 
a dumb beast. The little man in black, careless of their 
opinions, seemed resolved to maintain the liberty of keep- 
ing his own secret ; and the consequence was, that, in a lit- 
tle while, the whole village was in an uproar; for in little 
communities of 'this description, the members have always 
the privilege of being thoroughly versed, and even of med- 
dling in all the affairs of each other. 

A confidential conference was held one Sunday morning 
after sermon, at the door of the village church, and the cha- 
racter of the unknown fully investigated. The schoolmaster 
gave as his opinion that he was the wandering Jew ; the 
sexton was certain that he must be a freemason from his 
silence ; a third maintained, with great obstinacy, that he 
was a High German Doctor, and that the book which he 
carried about with him contained the secrets of the black art ; 
but the most prevailing opinion seemed to be that he was a 
witch — a race of beings at that time abounding in those 
parts : and a sagacious old matron, from Connecticut, pro- 
posed to ascertain the fact by sousing him into a kettle of hot 
w^ter. 

Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, and 
soon becomes certainty. Many a stormy night was the little 
man in black seen by the flashes of lightning, frisking and 
curveting in the air upon a broomstick; and it was always 
observed, that at those times the storm did more mischief 
than at any other. The old lady in particular, who suggest- 
ed the humane ordeal of the boiling kettle, lost, on one of 
these occasions, a fine brindle cow ; which accident was en- 
tirely ascribed to the vengeance of the little man in black. 
If ever a mischievous hireling rode his master's favourite 
horse to a distant frolic, and the animal was observed to be 
lame and jaded in the morning, — the little man in black was 
sure to be at the bottom of the affair ; nor could a high wind 

6 



62 BEAUTIES OF 

howl through the village at night, but the old women shrug- 
ged up their shoulders, and observed, " the little man in black 
was in his tantrums.'^'' In short, he became the bugbear 
of every house ; and was effectual in frightening little 
children into obedience and hysterics, as the redoubtable 
Raw-head-and-bloody-bones himself; nor could a housewife 
of the village sleep in peace, except under the guardianship 
of a horse-shoe nailed to the door. 

The object of these direful suspicions remained for some 
time totally ignorant of the wonderful quandary he had oc- 
casioned ; but he was soon doomed to feel its effects. An 
individual who is once so unfortunate as to incur the odium 
of a village, is in a great measure outlawed" and proscribed, 
and becomes a mark for injury and insult ; particularly if 
he has not the power or the disposition to recriminate. The 
little venomous passions, which in the great world are dis- 
sipated and weakened by being widely difflised, act in the 
narrow limits of a country town vvith collected vigour, and 
become rancorous in proportion as they are confined in their 
sphere of action. The little man in black experienced the 
truth of this ; every mischievous urchin returning from 
school had full liberty to break, his windows ; and this was 
considered as a most daring exploit ; for in such awe did 
they stand of him, that the most adventurous schoolboy was 
never seen to approach his threshold, and at night would 
prefer going round by the cross-roads, where a traveller had 
been murdered by the Indians, rather than pass by the door 
of his forlorn habitation. 

The only living creature that seemed to have any care or 
affection for this deserted being was an old turnspit, — the 
companion of this lonely mansion and his solitary wander- 
ings ; — the sharer of his scanty meals, and, sorry am I to 
say it, — the sharer of his persecutions. The turnspit, like 
his master, was peaceable and inoffensive ; never known to 
bark at a horse, to growl at a traveller, or to quarrel with 
the dogs of the neighbourhood. He followed close by his 
master's heels when he went out, and when he returned 
stretched himself in the sunbeams at the door ; demeaning 
himself in all things like a civil and well-disposed turnspit. 
But notwithstanding his exemplary deportment, he fell like- 
wise under the ill report of the village ; as being the familiar 



WASHINGTON IRVINO. 68 

of the little man in black, and the evil spirit that presided at 
his incantations. The old hovel was considered as the scene 
of their unhallowed rites, and its harmless tenants regarded 
with a detestation which their inoffensive conduct never 
merited. Though pelted and jeered at by the brats of the 
village, and frequently abused by their parents, the little 
man in black never turned to rebuke them ; and his faithful 
dog, when wantonly assaulted, looked up wistfully in his 
master's face, and there learned a lesson of patience and 
forbearance. 

The movements of this inscrutable being had long been 
the subject of speculation at Cockloft-hall, for its inmates 
were full as much given to wandering as their descendants. 
The patience with which he bore his persecutions particularly 
surprised them — for patience is a virtue but little known in 
the Cockloft family. My grandmother, who, it appears, was 
rather superstitious, saw, in this humility, nothing but the 
gloomy sullenness of a wizard, who restrained himself for 
the present, in hopes of midnight vengeance — the parson of 
the village, who was a man of some reading, pronounced it 
the stubborn insensibility of a stoic philosopher — my grand- 
father, who, worthy soul, seldom wandered abroad in search 
of conclusions, took datum from his own excellent heart, 
and I'egarded it as the humble forgiveness of a Christian. 
But however different were their opinions as to the character 
of the stranger, they agreed in one particular, namely, in 
never intruding; upon his solitude ; and my grandmother, 
who was at that time nursing my mother, never left the 
room without wisely putting the large family bible in the 
cradle — ^a sure talisman, in her opinion, against witchcraft 
and necromancy. 

One stormy windy night, when a bleak north-east wind 
moaned about the cottages, and howled around the village 
steeple, my grandfather was returning from club preceded 
by a servant with a lantern. Just as he arrived opposite 
the desolate abode of the little man in black, he was arrested 
by the piteous howling of a dog, which, heard in the pauses 
of a storm, was exquisitely mournful ; and he fancied now 
and then that he caught the low and broken groans of some 
one in distress. He stopped for some minutes, hesitating 
between the benevolence of his heart and a sensation of 



64 BEAUTIES or 

genuine delicacy, which, in spite of his eccentricity, he fully 
possessed, — and which forbade him to pry into the con- 
cerns of his neighbours. Perhaps, too, this hesitation might 
have been strengthened by a little taint of superstition ; or 
surely, if the unknown had been addicted to witchcraft, this 
was a most propitious night for his vagaries. At length the 
old gentleman's philanthropy predominated ; he approached 
the hovel, and pushing open the door, — for poverty has no 
occasion for locks and keys, — beheld, by the light of the 
lantern, a scene that smote his generous heart to the core. 

On a miserable bed, with pallid and emaciated visage and 
hollow eyes ; in a room destitute of every convenience ; 
without fire to warm or friend to console him, lay this help- 
less mortal, who had been so long the terror and wonder of 
the village. His dog was crouching on the scanty coverlet, 
and shivering with cold. My grandfather stepped softly and 
hesitatingly to the bedside, and accosted the forlorn sufferer 
in his usual accents of kindness. The little man in black, 
seemed recalled by the tones of compassion from the lethargy 
into which he had fallen ; for, though his heart was almost 
frozen, there was yet one chord that answered to the call of 
the good old man who bent over him ; — the tones of sympa- 
thy, so novel to his ear, called back his wandering senses, 
and acted like a restorative to his solitary feelings. 

He raised his eyes, but they were vacant and haggard ; 
— he put forth his hand, but it was cold; he essayed to 
speak, but the sound died away in his throat ; — he pointed 
to his mouth with an expression of dreadful meaning, and, 
sad to relate ! my grandfather understood that the harmless 
stranger, deserted by society, was perishing with hunger ! — 
With the quick impulse of humanity he despatched the ser- 
vant to the hall for refreshment. A little warm nourishment 
renovated him for a short time, but not long : it was evident 
his pilgrimage was drawing to a close, and he was about 
entering that peaceful asylum where " the wicked cease from 
troubling." 

His tale of misery was short, and quickly told ; — infirmi- 
ties had stolen upon him, heightened by the rigours of the 
season ; he had taken to his bed without strength to rise and 
ask for assistance ; " and if I had," said he, in a tone of 
bitter despondency, " to whom should I have applied ? I 



•WASHINGTON IRVING. 65 

have no friend that I know of in the world ! — the villagers 
avoid me as something loathsonne and dangerous ; and here, 
in the midst of Christians, should I have perished without a 
fellow being to sooth the last moments of existence, and close 
my dying eyes, had not the howlings of my faithful dog 
excited your attention." 

He seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my grand- 
father ; and at one time as he looked up into his old bene- 
factor's face, a solitary tear was observed to steal adown the 
parched furrows of his cheek. — Poor outcast ! — it was the 
last tear he shed ; but 1 warrant it was not the first by mil- 
lions ! My grandfather watched by him all night. Towards 
morning he gradually declined ; and as the rising sun 
gleamed through the w^indows, he begged to be raised in his 
bed, that he might look at it for the last time. He contem- 
plated it for a moment with a kind of religious enthusiasm, 
and his lips moved as if engaged in prayer. The strange 
conjecture concerning him rushed on my grandfather's mind. 
*' He is an idolater !" thought he, " and is worshipping the 
sun 1" He listened a moment, and blushed at his own uncha- 
ritable suspicion ; he was only engaged in the pious devotions 
of a Christian. His simple orison being finished, the little 
man in black withdrew his eyes from the east, and taking 
my grandfather's hand in one of his. and making a motion 
with the other towards the sun — " I love to contemplate it," 
said he; "'tis an emblem of the universal benevolence of a 
true Christian ; — and it is the most glorious work of him 
who is philanthropy itself !" My grandfather blushed still 
deeper at his ungenerous surmises ; he had pitied the 
stranger at first, but now he revered him : — he turned once 
more to regard him, but his countenance had undergone a 
change ; the holy enthusiasm that had lighted up each fea- 
ture had given place to an expression of mysterious import : 
— a gleam of grandeu ■ seem-^d to steal across his gothic 
visage, and he appeared full of some mighty secret which 
he hesitated to impart. He raised the tattered nightcap that 
had sunk almost over his eyes, and waving his withered 
hand with a slow and feeble expression of dignity — " In 
me," said he, with a laconic solemnity, — " In me you be- 
hold the last descendant of the renowned Linkum Fidelius 1" 
My grandfather gazed at him with reverence ; for though 

6* 



66 BEAUTIES OF 

he had never heard of the illustrious personage thus pom- 
pously announced, yet there was a certain black-letter dig- 
nity in the name that peculiarly struck his fancy and com- 
manded his respect. 

"You have been kind to me," continued the little man in 
black, after a momentary pause, *' and richly will I requite 
your kindness by making you heir to my treasures ! In 
yonder large deal box are the volumes of my illustrious an- 
cestor, of which I alone am the fortunate possessor. Inherit 
them — ponder over them, and be wise !" He grew faint 
with the exertion he had made, and sunk back almost breath- 
less on his pillow. His hand, which, inspired with the im- 
portance of his subject, he had raised to my grandfather's 
arm, slipped from its hold and fell over the side of the bed, 
and his faithful dog licked it ; as if anxious to sooth the last 
moments of his master, and testify his gratitude to the hand 
that had so often cherished him. The untaught caresses of 
the faithful animal were not lost upon his dying master ; he 
raised his languid ej-^es, — turned them on the dog, then on 
my grandfather ; and having given this silent recommenda- 
tion — closed them for ever. 

The remains of the little man in black, notwithstanding 
the objections of many pious people, were decently interred 
in the church-yard of the. village; and his spirit, harmless 
as the body it once animated, has never been known to mo- 
lest a living being. My grandfather complied as far as pos- 
sible with his last request ; he conveyed the volumes of Lin- 
kum Fidelius to his library; — he pondered over them fre- 
quently ; but whether he grew wiser, the family tradition 
doth not mention. This much is certain, that his kindness 
to the poor descendant of Fidelius was amply rewarded by 
the approbation of his own heart, and the devoted attach- 
ment of the old turnspit ; who, transferring his affection 
from his deceased master to his benefactor, became his con- 
stant attendant, and was father to a long tribe of runty curs 
that still flourish in the family. And thus was the cockloft 
library enriched by the invaluable folios of the sage Linkum 
Fidelius. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 67 



MY AUNT CHARITY. 

My aunt Charity departed this life in the fifty-ninth year 
of her age, though she never grew older after .twenty -fiy_e.. 
In her teens she was, according to her own account, a cele- 
brated beauty, — though I never could meet with any body 
that remembered when she was handsome. On the contrary, 
Evergreen's father, who used to gallant her in his youth, 
says she was as knotty a little piece of humanity as he ever 
saw ; and that, if she had been possessed of the leastsensi- 
bility, she would, like poor old Acco^ have most certainly 
run mad at her own figure and face the first time she con- 
templated herself in a looking-glass. In the good old times 
that saw my aunt in the hey-day of youth, a fine lady was 
a most formidable animal, and required to be approached 
with the same awe and devotion that a Tartar feels in the 
presence of his grand Lama. If a gentleman offered to take 
her hand, except to help her into a carriage, or lead her into 
a drawing-room, such frowns ! such a rustling of brocade 
and taffeta ! Her very paste shoe buckles sparkled with in- 
dignation, and for a moment assumed the brilliancy of dia- 
monds ! In those days the person of a belle was sacred — it 
was unprofaned by the sacrilegious grasp of a stranger : — 
simple souls : — they had not the waltz among them yet ! 

My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this buckram 
delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing at the old fash- 
ioned game of forfeits, and was fined a kiss, it was always 
more trouble to get it than it was worth ; for she made a most 
gallant defence, and never surrendered until she saw her ad- 
versary inclined to give over his attack. Evergreen's father 
says he remembers once to have been on a sleighing party 
with her, and when they came to Kissing-Bridge, it fell to his 
lot to levy contributions on Miss Charity Cockloft, who after 
squalling at a hideous rate, at length jumped out of the 
sleigh plump into a snow-bank, where she stuck fast like an 
icicle, until he came to her rescue. This Latonian feat cost' 
her a rheumatism, which she never thoroughly recovered. 

It is rather singular that my aunt, though a great beauty, 
and an heiress withal, never got married. The reason she 
alleged was, that she never met with a lover who resembled 



68 BEAUTIES OF 

Sir Charles Grandison, the hero of her nightly dreams and 
waking fancy ; but I am privately of opinion that it was 
owing to her never having had an offer. This much is cer- 
tain, that for many years previous to her decease she de- 
clined all attentions from the gentlemen, and contented her- 
self with watching over the welfare of her fellow creatures. 
She was, indeed, observed to take a considerable lean towards 
methodism, was frequent in her attendance at lovefeasts, 
read Whitefield and Wesley, and even went so far as once 
to travel the distance of five and twenty miles to be present at a 
camp-meeting. This gave great offence to my cousin Christo- 
pher, and his good lady, who, as 1 have already mentioned, 
are rigidly orthodox ; — and had not my aunt Charity been 
of a most pacific disposition, her religious whim-wham 
would have occasioned many a family altercation. She 
was indeed, as the Cockloft family ever boasted — a lady of 
unbounded loving-kindness, which extended to man, woman, 
and child ; many of ivhom she almost killed with good na- 
ture. Was any acquaintance sick? — -in vain did the wind 
whistle and the storm beat — my aunt would v/addle through 
mud and mire, over the whole town, but what she would 
visit ihem. She would sit by them for hours together with 
the most persevering patience ; and tell a thousand melan- 
choly stories of human misery, to keep up their spirits. 
The whole catalogue of yerh teas was at her fingers' ends, 
from formidable wormwood down to gentle balm ; and she 
would descant by the hour on the healing qualities of hoar- 
hound, catnip, and penny-royal. Wo be to the patient that 
came under the benevolent hand of my aunt Charity ; he 
was sure, willy nilly, to be drenched with a deluge of de- 
coctions ; and full many a time has my cousin Christopher 
borne a twinge of pain in silence, through fear of being con- 
demned to suffer the martyrdom of her materia-medica. 
My good aunt had, moreover, considerable skill in astrono- 
my ; for she could tell when the sun rose and set every 
day in the year ; — and no woman in the whole world was 
able to pronounce, with more certainty, at what precise 
minute the moon changed. She held the story of the 
moon's being made of green cheese as an abominable slan- 
der on her favourite planet ; and she had made several 
valuable discoveries in solar eclipses, by means of a bit of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 69 

burnt glass, which entitled her at least to an honorary ad- 
mission in the American Philosophical Society. " Hutch- 
ing's Improved" was her favourite book ; and I shrewdly 
suspect that it was from this valuable work she drew most 
of her sovereign remedies for colds, coughs, corns, and con- 
sumptions. "* 

But the truth must be told ; with all her good qualities, 
my aunt Charity was afflicted with one fault, extremely rare 
among her gentle sex — it was curiosity. How she came by 
it, I am at a loss to imagine, but it played the very ven- 
geance with her, and destroyed the comfort of her life. 
Having an invincible desire to know every body's charac- 
ter, business, and mode of living, she was for ever prying 
into the affairs of her neighbours ; and got a great deal of 
ill-will from people towards whom she had the kindest dis- 
position possible. If any family on the opposite side of the 
street gave a dinner, my aunt would mount her spectacles, 
and sit at the window until the company were all housed, 
merely that she might know who they were. If she heard 
a story about any of her acquaintance, she would forthwith 
set off full sail, and never rest, until, to use her usual ex- 
pression, she had got " to the bottom of it ;" which meant 
nothing more than telling it to every one she knew. 

I remember one night my aunt Charity happened to hear 
a most precious story about one of her good friends, but un- 
fortunately too late to give it immediate circulation. It 
made her absolutely miserable ; and she hardly slept a 
wink all night; for fear her bosom friend, Mrs. Sipkins 
should get the start of her in the morning, and blow the 
whole affair. — You must know there was always a contest 
between these two ladies, who should first give currency to 
the good-natured things said about every body ; and this 
unfortunate rivalship at length proved fatal to their long and 
ardent friendship. My aunt got up full two hours that 
morning before her usual time ; put on her pompadour 
taffeta gown, and sallied forth to lament the misfortune of 
her dear friend. — Would you believe it! — wherever she 
went, Mrs. Sipkins had anticipated her; and instead of 
being listened to with uplifted hands and open-mouthed 
wonder, my unhappy aunt was obliged to sit down quietly 
and listen to the whole affair, with numerous additions, aU 



70 BEAUTIES OF 

terations, and cimendments ! Now this was too bad ; it 
would almost have provoked Patient Grizzle or a saint ; it 
was too much for my aunt, who kept her bed three days 
afterwards, with a cold as she pretended ; but I have no 
doubt it was owing to this affair of Mrs. Sipkins, to whom 
she never would be reconciled. 

But I pass over the rest of my aunt Charity's life che- 
quered with the various calamities and misfortunes and mor- 
tifications, incident to those worthy old gentlewomen who 
have the domestic cares of the whole community upon their 
minds ; and I hasten to relate the melancholy incident that 
hurried her out of existence in the full bloom of antiquated 
virginity. 

In their frolicsome malice the fates had ordered that a 
French boarding-house, or Pension Francaise, as it was 
called, should be established directly opposite my aunt's 
residence. Cruel event ! unhappy aunt Charity !— it threw 
her into that alarming disorder denominated the fidgets : she 
did nothing but watch at the window day after day, but 
without becoming one whit the wiser at the end of a fort- 
night than she was at the beginning ; she thought that 
neighbour Pension had a monstrous large family, and some- 
how or other they were all men ! She could not imagine 
what business neighbour Pension followed to support so nu- 
merous a household ; and wondered why there was always 
such a scraping of fiddles in the parlour, and such a smell 
of onions from neighbour Pension's kitchen ; in short, neigh- 
bour Pension was continually uppermost in her thoughts, 
and incessantly on the outer edge of her tongue. This was, 
I believe, the very first time she had ever failed " to get at 
the bottom of a thing;" and the disappointment cost her 
many a sleepless night, I warrant you. I have little doubt, 
however, that my aunt would have ferreted neighbour Pen- 
sion out, could she have spoken or understood French ; but 
in those times people in general could make themselves un- 
derstood in plain English ; and it was always a standing 
rule in the Cockloft family, which exists to this day, that 
not one of the females should learn French. 

My aunt Charity had lived at her window, for some time 
in vain ; v^^hen one day she was keeping her usual look out, 
and suffering all the pangs of unsatisfied curiosity, when she 



WASHINGTON IRVING. ■?! 

beheld a little meagre, weazel-faced Frenchman, of the most 
forlorn, diminutive, and pitiful proportions, arrive at neigh- 
bour Pension's door. He was^dressed in white, with a lit- 
tle pinch-up cocked hat ; he seemed to shake in the wind, 
and every blast that went over him whistled through his 
bones, and threatened instant annihilation. This embodied 
spirit of famine was followed by three carts, lumbered with 
crazy trunks, chests, band-boxes, bidets, medicine chests, 
parrots, and monkeys ; and at his heels ran a yelping pack 
of little black-nosed pug-dogs. This was the one thing 
wanting to fill up the measure of my aunt Charity's afflic- 
tions ; she could not conceive, for the soul of her, who this 
mysterious little apparition could be that made so great a 
display ; — what he could possibly do with so much bag- 
gage, and particularly with his parrots and monkeys ; or 
how so small a carcass could have occasion for so many 
trunks of clothes. Honest soul I she never had a peep 
into a Frenchman's wardrobe — that depot of old coats, hats, 
and breeches of the growth of every fashion he has followed 
in his life. 

From the time of this fatal arrival my poor aunt was in a 
quandary ; — all her inquiries were fruitless ; no one could 
expound the history of this mysterious stranger : she never 
held her head up afterwards — drooped daily, took to her 
bed in a fortnight, and in " one little month," I saw her 
quietly deposited in the family vault — being the seventh 
Cockloft that has died of a whim-wham ! 

Take warning, my fair countrywomen 1 and you, O 1 ye 
excellent ladies, whether married or single, who pry into 
other people's affairs and neglect those of your own house- 
hold ; who are so busily employed in observing the faults of 
others that you have no time to correct your own ; remem- 
ber the fate of my dear aunt Charity and eschew the evil 
spirit of curiosity. 



WILL WIZARD. 

I WAS not a little suprised the other morning at a request 
from Will Wizard, that I would accompany him that even 



72 BEAUTIES OF 

ing to Mrs. — 's ball. The request was simple enough 

in itself, it was only singular as coming from Will ; — of all 
my acquaintance, Wizard is the least calculated and dispos- 
ed for the society of ladies — not that he dislikes their com- 
pany ; on the contrary, like every man of pith and marrow, 
he is a professed admirer of the sex ; and had he been born 
a poet, would undoubtedly have bespattered and be-rhymed 
some hard named goddess ; until she became as famous as 
Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa ; but Will is such 
a confounded bungler at a bow, he has so many odd bache- 
lor habits, and fiftds it so troublesome to be gallant, that he 
generally prefers smoking his cigar and telling his story 
among cronies of his own gender : — and thundering long 
stories they are, let me tell you : set Will once a-going about 
China or Crim Tartary, or the Hottentots, and heaven help 
the poor victim who has to endure his prolixity ; he might 
better be tied to the tail of a jack-o'lantern. In one word, 
Will talks like a traveller. Being well acquainted with his 
character, I was the more alarmed at his inclination to visit 
a party ; since he has often assured me, that he considered 
it as equivalent to being stuck up for three hours in a steam- 
engine. I even wondered how he had received an invita- 
tion ; — this he soon accounted for. It seems Will, on his 
last arrival from Canton, had made a present of a case of 
tea to a lady, for whom he had once entertained a sneakmg 
kindness when at grammar-school ; and she in return had 
invited him to come and drink some of it ; a cheap way 
enough of paying off little obligations. I readily acceded to 
Will's proposition, expecting much entertainment from his 
eccentric remarks ; and as he has been absent some fefw 
years, I anticipated his surprise at the splendour and ele- 
gance of a modern rout. 

On calling for Will in the evening, t found him full 
dressed, waiting for me. I contemplated him with absolute 
dismay. As he still retained a spark of regard for the lady 
who once reigned in his affections, he had been at unusual 
pains in decorating his person, and broke upon my sight 
arrayed in the true style that prevailed among our beaux 
some years ago. His hair was turned up and tufted at the 
top, frizzled out at the ears, a profusion of powder puffed 
over the whole, and a long plaited club swung gracefully 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 73 

from shoulder to shoulder, describing a pleasing semircircle 
of powder and pomatum. His claret coloured coat was de- 
corated with a profusion of gilt buttons, and reached to his 
calves. His white cassimere small clothes were so tight 
that he seemed to have grown up in them ; and his ponde- 
rous legs, which are the thickest part of his body, were 
beautifully clothed in sky-blue silk stockings, once consid- 
ered so becoming. But above all he prided himself upon 
his waistcoat of China silk, which might almost have served 
a good house-wife for a short-gown ; and he boasted that 
the roses and tulips upon it were the work of Nang-Fou, 
daughter of the great Chin-Chin-Fou, who had fallen in 
love with the graces of his person, and sent' it to him as a 
parting present ; he assured me she was a perfect beauty, 
with sweet obliquity of eyes, and a foot no longer than the 
thumb of an alderman ; — he then dilated most copiously on 
his silver sprigged dicky, which he assured me was quite 
the rage among the dashing young mandarins of Canton. 

I hold it an ill-natured office to put any man out of con- 
ceit with himself; so, though I would willingly have made 
a little alteration in my friend Wizard's picturesque cos- 
tume, yet I politely complimented him on his rakish appear- 
ance. 

On entering the room I kept a good look out on Will, 
expecting to see him exhibit signs of surprise ; but he is one 
of those knowing fellows who are never surprised at any 
thing, or at least will never acknowledge it. He took his 
stand in the middle of the floor, playing with his great steel 
watch chain ; and looking round on the company, the fur- 
niture, and the pictures, with the air of a man " who had seen 

d d finer things in his time ;" and to my utter confusion 

and dismay, I saw him coolly pull out his villanous old 
japanned tobacco-box, ornamented with a bottle, a pipe, and 
a scurvy motto, and help himself to a quid in face of all the 
company. 

I knew it was all in vain to find fault with a fellow of 
Will's socratic turn, who is never to be put out of humour 
with himself; so, after he had given the box its prescriptive 
rap, and returned it to its pocket, I drew him into a corner, 
where we might observe the company without being promi- 
nent objects ourselves. 

7 



74 BEAUTIES OF 

" And pray who is that stylish figure," said Will, *' who 
blazes away in red, like a volcano, and who seems wrapped 
in flames like a fiery dragon ?" — That, cried I, is Miss Lau- 
relia Dashaway : — she is the highest flash of the ton — has 
much whim and more eccentricity, and has reduced many 
an unhappy gentleman to stupidity by her charms ; you see 
she holds out the red flag in token of " no quarter." " Then 
keep me safe out of the sphere of her attractions," cried 
Will : " I would not e'en come in contact with her train, 
lest it should scorch me like the tail of a comet. — But who, 
I beg of you, is that amiable youth who is handing along a 
young lady, and at the same time contemplating his sweet 
person in a mirror, as he passes V His name, said I, is Billy 
Dimple ; — he is a universal smiler, and would travel from 
Dan to Beersheba, and sinile on every body as he passed. 
Dimple is a slave to the ladies — a hero at tea-parties, and is 
famous at the pirouet and the pigeon-wing ; a fiddle-stick is 
his idol, and a dance his elysium. "A very pretty young 
gentleman truly," cried Wizard ; " he reminds me of a con- 
temporary beau at Hayti. You must know that the mag- 
nanimous Dessalines gave a great ball to his court one fine 
sultry summer's evening; Dessy and I were great cronies ; 
— hand and glove : — one of the most condescending great 
men I ever knew. — Such a display of black and yellow 
beauties ! such a show of Madras handkerchiefs, red beads, 
cocks' tails, and peacocks feathers ! — it was, as here, who 
should wear the highest top-knot, drag the longest tails, or 
exhibit the greatest variety of combs, colours, and gewgaws. 
In the middle of the rout, when all was buzz, sHp-slpp, 
clack, and perfume, who should enter but Tucky Squash ! 
The yellow beauties blushed blue, and the black ones blush- 
ed as red as they could, with pleasure ; and there was a 
universal agitation of fans : every eye brightened and whit- 
ened to see Tucky ; for he was the pride of the court, the 
pink of courtesy, the mirror of fashion, the adoration of all 
the sable fair ones of Hayti. Such breadth of nose, such 
exuberance of lip ! his shins had the true cucumber curve ; — 
his face in dancing shone like a kettle ; and provided you 
kept to windward of him in summer, I do not know a sweet- 
er youth in all Hayti than Tucky Squash. When he 
laughed, there appeared from ear to ear a chevaux-de-frize of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 75 

teeth, that rivalled the shark's in whiteness ; he could whis- 
tle like a north-wester ; play on a three-stringed fiddle like 
Apollo; and, as to dancing, no Long-Island negro could 
shuffle you " double-trouble," or " hoe corn and dig pota- 
toes," more scientifically : in short, he was a second Lo- 
thario. And the dusky nymphs of Hayti, one, and all, de- 
clared him a perpetual Adonis. Tucky walked about, whist- 
hng to hinself, without regarding any body ; and his non- 
chalance was irresistible." 

I found Will had got neck and heels into one of his tra- 
veller's stories ; and there is no knowing how far he would 
have run his parallel between Billy Dimple and Tucky 
Squash, had not the music struck up from an adjoining 
apartment, and summoned the company to the dance. The 
sound seemed to have an inspiring effect on honest Will, 
and he procured the hand of an old acquaintance for a 
country dance. It happened to be the fashionable one of 
" The devil among the Tailors," which is so vociferously 
demanded at every ball and assembly : and many a torn 
gown, and many an unfortunate toe, did rue the dancing 
of that night; for Will thundered down the dance like a 
coach and six, sometimes right and sometimes wrong ; 
now running over half a score of little Frenchmen, and 
now making sad inroads into ladies cobweb muslins and 
spangled tails. As every part of Will's body partook 
of the exertion, he shook from his capacious head such 
volumes of powder, that like pious Eneas on the first inter- 
view with Queen Dido, he might be said to have been enve- 
loped in a cloud. Nor was Will's partner an insignificant 
figure in the scene ; she was a young lady of most volum- 
inous proportions, that quivered at every skip ; and being 
braced up in the fashionable style with whalebone, stay-tape 
and buckram, looked like an apple pudding tied in the mid- 
dle ; or, taking her flaming dress into consideration, like a 
bed and bolsters rolled up in a suit of red curtains. The 
dance finished. — I would gladly have taken Will off*, but no; 
— he was now in one of his hanpy moods, and there was no 
doing any thing wilh him. He insisted on my introducing 
him to Miss Sparkle, a young lady unrivalled for playful 
wit and innocent vivacity, and who, like a brilliant, adds 
lustre to the front of fashion. I accordingly presented him 



76 BEAUTIES or 

to her, and began a conversation, in which, I thought, he 
might take a share ; but no such thing. Will took his stand 
before her, straddling like a colossus, with his hands in his 
pockets, and an air of the most profound attention ; nor did 
he pretend to open his lips for some time, until, upon some 
lively sally of her's, he electrified the whole company with a 
most intolerable burst of laughter. What was to be done 
with such an incorrigible fellow ? — To add to my distress, 
the first word he spoke was to tell Miss Sparkle that some- 
thing she said reminded him of a circumstance that happened 
to him in China ; — and at it he went, in the true traveller 
style, — described the Chinese mode of eating rice with chop- 
sticks ; — -entered into a long eulogium on the succulent qua- 
lities of boiled birds' nests ; and I made my escape at the 
very moment when he was on the point of squatting down 
on the floor, to show how the little Chinese Joshes sit cross- 
legged. 



STYLE. 



In no instance have I seen this grasping after style more 
whimsically exhibited than in the family of my old acquaint- 
ance Timothy Giblet. I recollect old Giblet when I was a 
boy, and he was the most surly curmudgeon I ever knew. 
He was a perfect scare-crow to the small-fry of the day, and 
inherited the hatred of all these unlucky little shavers ; for 
never could we assemble about his door of an evening to 
play, and make a little hubbub, but out he sallied from his 
nest like a spider, flourished his formidable horse-whip, and 
dispersed the whole crew in the twinkling of a lamp. I per- 
fectly remember a bill he sent in to my father for a pane of 
sound glass I had accidentally broken, which came well 
nigh getting me a flogging ; and I remember, as perfectly, 
that the next night I revenged myself by breaking half-a- 
dozen. Giblet was as arrant a grub-worm as ever crawled ; 
and the only rules of right and wrong he cared a button for, 
were the rules of multiplication and addition; which he 
practised much more successfully than he did any of the 
rules of religion or morality. He used to declare they were 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 77 

the true golden rules ; and he took special care to put 
Cocker's arithmetic in the hands of his children, before they 
had read ten pages in the bible or the prayer book. The 
practice of these favourite maxims was at length crowned 
with the harvest of success ; and after a life of incessant 
self-denial, and starvation, and after enduring all the pounds, 
shillings and pence miseries of a miser, he had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing himself worth a plum, and of dying just as he 
had determined to enjoy the remainder of his days in con- 
templating his great wealth and accumulating mortgages. 

His children inherited his money ; but they buried the 
disposition, and every other memorial of their father in his 
grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, they instantly 
emerged from the retired lane in which themselves and their 
accomplishments had hitherto been buried; and they blazed, 
and they whizzed, and they cracked about town, like a nest 
of squibs and devils in a fire-work. I can liken t?ieir sudden 
eclat to nothing but that of the locust, which is hatched in 
the dust, where it increases and swells up to maturity, and 
after feeling for a moment the vivifying rays of the sun, 
bursts forth a mighty insect, and flutters and rattles, and 
buzzes from every tree. The little warblers, who have long 
cheered the woodlands with their dulcet notes, are stunned by 
the discordant racket of these upstart intruders, and con- 
template, in contemptuous silence, their tinsel and their noise. 

Having once started, the Giblets were determined that 
nothing should stop them in their career, until they had run 
their full course and arrived at the very tip-top of style. 
Every tailor, every shoemaker, every coachmaker, every 
milliner, every mantua-maker, every paper-hanger, every 
piano-teacher, and every dancing-master in the city, were 
enlisted in their service ; and the willing wights most cour- 
teously answered their call, and fell to work to build up the 
fame of the Giblets, as they had done that of many an as- 
piring family before them. In a little time the young ladies 
could dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder French, 
kill time, and commit violence on the face of nature in a 
landscape in water-colours, equal to the best lady in the 
land, and the young gentlemen were seen lounging at cor- 
ners of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at 
the theatre, and laughing in church, with as much ease and 



78 BEAUTIES OF 

grace, and modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all the 
days of their lives. 

And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, and in fine 
linen, and seated themselves in high places ; but no body 
noticed them except to honour them with a little contempt. 
The Giblets made a prodigious splash in their own opinion ; 
but nobody extolled them except the tailors, and the milli- 
ners, who had been employed in manufacturing their para- 
phernalia. The Giblets thereupon being, like Caleb Quo- 
tem, determined to have " a place at the review," fell to 
work more fiercely than ever ; — they gave dinners, and they 
gave balls ; they hired cooks ; they hired confectioners ; 
and they would have kept a newspaper in pay, had they not 
been all bought up at that time for the election. They in- 
vited the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the 
gormandizers, and the epicures of the city, to come and make 
merry at their expense; and the dancmg men, and the 
dancing women, and the epicures, and ths gormandizers, did 
come; and they did make merry at their expense," and they 
eat, and they drank, and they capered; and they danced, and 
they — -laughed at their entertainers. 

Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, ^nd the mighty 
nothingness of fashionable life ; — such rattling in coaches ! 
such flaunting in the streets! such slamming of box-doors at 
the theatre ! such a tempest of bustle and unmeaning noise 
wherever they appeared I The Giblets were seen here and 
there and every where ; — they visited every body they knew, 
and every body they did not know; and there was no get- 
ting along for the Giblets. Their plan at length succeeded. 
By dint of dinners, of feeding and frolicking the town, the 
Giblet family worked themselves into notice, and enjoyed 
the ineffable pleasure of being for ever pestered by visiters, 
who cared nothing about them ; of being squeezed, and 
smothered, and par-boiled at nightly balls, and evening tea- 
parties ; they were allowed the privilege of forgetting the 
very few old friends they once possessed ; — they turned their 
noses up in the wind at every thing that was not genteel ; 
and their superb manners and subhme affectation at length 
left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were per- 
fectly in the style. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 79 



FRENCHMEN. 

In my mind there's no position more positive and unex- 
ceptionable than that most Frenchmen, dead or alive, are 
born dancers. I came pounce upon this discovery at the 
assembly, and I immediately noted it down in my' register of 
indisputable facts — the public shall know all about it. As I 
never dance cotillions, holding them to be monstrous distor- 
ters of the human frame, and tantamount in their operations 
to being broken and dislocated on the wheel, I generally take 
occasion, while they are going. on, to make my remarks on 
the company. In the course of these observations I was 
struck with the energy and eloquence of sundry limbs, which 
seemed to be flourishing about without appertaining to any 
body. After much investigation and difficulty, I, at length, 
traced them to their respective owners, whom I found to be 
all Frenchmen to a man. Art may have meddled some- 
what in these affairs, but nature certainly did more. I have 
since been considerably employed in calculations on this 
subject; and by the most accurate computation I have de- 
termined, that a Frenchman passes at least three-fifths of his 
time between the heavens and the earth, and partakes emi- 
nently of the nature of a gossam or soap bubble. One of 
these jack-a-lantern heroes, in taking a figure, which neither 
Euclid nor Pythagoras himself could demonstrate, unfortu- 
nately wound himself — I mean his foot — -his better part — 
into a lady's cobweb muslin robe ; but perceiving it at the 
instant, he set himself a spinning the other way, like a top, 
unravelled his step, without omitting one angle or curve, and 
extricated himself without breaking a thread of the lady's 
dress ! he then sprung up like a sturgeon, crossed his feet 
four times, and finished this wonderful evolution by quiver- 
ing his left leg, as a cat does her paw when she has acci- 
dentally dipped it in water. No man of" woman born," who 
was not a Frenchman, or a mountebank, could have done 
the like. 



80 BEAUTIES OF 



THE WIFE, 



I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with 
which women sustain the most overwhehning reverses of 
fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a 
man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all 
the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and 
elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to 
sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold 
a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and 
dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness while 
treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in 
mental force to be the comforter and supporter of her hus- 
band under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking firm- 
ness, the bitterest blasts of adversity. 

As the vine Vv'hich has long twined its graceful foliage 
about the oak, and been lifted by it in sunshine, will, when 
the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it 
with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; 
so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that woman, v/ho 
is the mere dependant and ornament of man in his happier 
hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with 
sudden calamity; vv^inding herself into the rugged recesses 
of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head and 
binding up the broken heart. 

I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him 
a blooming family, knit together in the strongest affection. 
" I can wish you no better lot," said he, with enthusiasm, 
" than to have a wife and children. — If you are prosperous, 
there they are to share your prosperity ; if otherwise, there 
they are to comfort you." And, indeed, I have observed 
that a married man falling into misfortune is more apt to 
retrieve his situation in the world than a single one ; partly 
because he is more stimulated to exertion by the necessities 
of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for 
subsistence; but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and 
relieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept 
alive by finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and 
humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, 
of which he is the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 81 

run to waste and self-neglect ; to fancy himself lonely and 
abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some deserted 
mansion, for want of an inhabitant. 

These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of 
which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, 
had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had 
been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, 
it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample ; and 
he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every 
elegant pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes 
and fancies, that spread a kind of witchery about the sex. — ■ 
" Her life," said he, " shall be like a fairy tale." The very 
difference in their characters produced an harmonious com- 
bination ; he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast ; 
she was air life and gladness. I have often noticed the 
mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in com- 
pany, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight ; 
and how in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn 
to him, as if there alone she sought favour and acceptance. 
When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrasted fine- 
ly with his tall manly person. The fond confiding air with 
which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a fliish of 
triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on 
his lovely burthen for its very helplessness. Never did a 
couple set forward on the flowery path of early and well- 
suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. 

It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have em- 
barked his property in large speculations ; and he had not 
been married many months, when, by a succession of sud- 
den disasters, it was swept from him, and he found himself 
reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept his situation 
to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance, and 
a breaking heart- His life was but a protracted agony ; and 
what rendered it more insupportable was the keeping up a 
smile in the presence of his wife ; for he could not bring 
himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, how- 
ever, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well 
with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled si^hs, 
and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts 
at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers and 
tender blandishments to win him back to happiness ; but she 



82 BEAUTIES OF 

only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he 
saw cause to love her, the more torturing wa^ the thought 
that he was soon to nnake her wretched. A little while, 
thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek — the 
song will die away from those lips — the lustre of those eyes 
will be quenched with sorrow ; and the happy heart, which 
now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed .down like 
mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. 

At length he came to me one day, and related his whole 
situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I heard him 
through, 1 inquired, "Does your wife know all this1" — At 
the question he burst into an agony of tears. " For God's 
sake !" cried he, "if you have any pity on me, don't mention 
my wife ; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to 
madness !" 

" And why not 1" said I. " She must know it sooner or 
later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence 
may break upon her in a more startling manner than if im- 
parted by yourself; for the accents of those we love soften 
the harshest tidings. Besides you are depriving yourself of 
the comforts of her sympathy; and not merely that, but also 
endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together — an 
unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon 
perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind ; 
and true love will not brook reserve ; it feels undervalued 
and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are 
concealed from it." 

" Oh, but, my friend ! to think what a blow I am to give 
to all her future prospects — how I am to strike her very soui 
to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! 
that she is to forego all the elegancies of life — all the plea- 
sures of society — to shrink with me into indigence and ob- 
scurity ! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the 
sphere in which she might have continued to move in con- 
stant brightness — the light of every eye — the admiration of 
every heart ! — how can she bear poverty ? she has been 
brought up in all the refinement of opulence. How can she 
bear neglect? she has been the idol of society. Oh, it will 
break her heart — it will break her heart ! — " 

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow ; 
for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm 



WASHINGTON IRVING. ' 83 

had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I re- 
sumed the subject gently, and urged him lo break his situa- 
tion at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but 
positively, 

" But how are you to keep it from her ? It is necessary 
she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to 
the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your 

style of living nay," observing a pang to pass across his 

countenance, " don't let that afflict you. I am sure you have 
nerer placed your happiness in outward show — you have 
yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of 
you for being less splendidly lodged ; and surely it does not 
require a palace to be happy with Mary — " 

" I could be happy with her," cried he,~convulsively, " in 
a hovel !-— I could go down with her into poverty and the 

dust! — I could — I could God bless herl — God bless 

her!" cried he, bursting into a transport of giief and ten- 
derness. 

" And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and 
grasping him warmly by the hand, " believe me, she can be 
the same with you. Ay, more: it will be a source of pride 
and triumph to her — it will call forth all the latent energies 
and fervent sympathies of her nature ; for she will rejoice to 
prove that she loves you for yourself. There is in every 
true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dor- 
mant in the broad daylight of prosperity ; but which kindles 
up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No 
man knows'what the wife of his bosom is — no man knows 
what a ministerino; ano;el she is — until he has ffone with her 
through the fiery trials of this world." 

There was something in the earnestness of my manner, 
and the figurative style of my language, that caught the ex- 
cited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal 
with ; and following up the impression I had made, 1 finished 
by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart 
to his wife. 

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, T felt some 
little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the 
fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round of plea- 
sures? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark downward 
path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and 



84 BEAUTIES OF 

might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto 
revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by 
so many galling mortifications, to which in other ranks it is 
a stranger. — In short, I could not meet Leslie the next morn- 
ing without trepidation. He had made the disclosure. 

" And how did she bear it 1" 

" Like an angel ! It seemed rather to be a relief to her 
mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked if 
this was all that had lately made me unhappy. — But, poor 
girl," added he, " she cannot realize the change we must 
undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract ; 
she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. 
She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers no loss of accus- 
tomed conveniences nor elegancies. When we come prac- 
tically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its 
petty humiliations — then will be the real trial." 

" But," said T, " now that you have got over the severest 
task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world 
into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying^ 
but then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you 
otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day. It 
is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined 
man — the struggle between a proud mind and an empty 
purse — the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come 
to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you dis- 
arm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found 
Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, 
and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their 
altered fortunes. 

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. 
He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small 
cottage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been 
busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establish- 
ment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. 
All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, 
excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely 
associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to the little 
story of their loves ; for some of the sweetest moments of 
their courtship were those when he had leaned over that in- 
strument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 85 

could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in 
a dotino; husband. 

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had 
been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings 
had become strongly interested in the progress of this family 
story, and, as it was a fine evening, I ofl^ered to accompany 
him. 

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as we 
walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 

" Poor Mary i" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from 
his Hps. 

" And what of her? asked I : " jias any thing happened 
to her?" 

" What," said he, darting an impatient glance, " is it no- 
thing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be caged in 
a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil almost in the me- 
nial concerns of her wretched habitation?" 
" Has she then repined at the change ?" 
" Repined 1 she has been nothing but sweetness and good 
humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever 
known her ; she has been to me all love, and tenderness and 
comfort !" 

" Admirable girl !" exclaimed I. " You call yourself 
poor, my friend ; you never were so rich — you never knew 
the boundless treasure of excellence you possessed in that 
woman." 

" Oh ! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage 
were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this 
is her first day of real experience ; she has been introduced 
into a humble dwelling — she has been employed all day in 
arranging its miserable equipments — she has, for the first 
time, known the fatigues of domestic employment — she has, 
for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of 
every thing elegant, — almost of every thing convenient; and 
may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding 
over a prospect of future poverty." 

There was a degree of probability in this picture that I 
could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. 

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so 
th.ckly shaded v, ith forest trees as to give it a complete air 
of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was hum- 



BEAUTIES OF 



ble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet ; and 
yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun 
one end with a profusion of foliage ; a {ew trees threw their 
branches gracefully over it ; and I observed several pots of 
flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass 
plat in front. A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath 
that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as 
we approached, we heard the sound of music — Leslie grasp- 
ed my arm ; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, 
singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air 
of which her husband Avas peculiarly fond. 

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped for- 
ward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the 
gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the 
window and vanished — a light footstep was heard — and 
Mary came tripping forth to meet us ; she was in a pretty 
rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her 
fine hair ; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole coun- 
tenance beamed with smiles — I had never seen her look so 
lovely. 

" My dear George," cried she, " I am so glad you are 
come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; and 
running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've sei, 
out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage ; and 
I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, 
for I know you are fond of them — and we have such excel- 
lent cream — and we have every thing so sweet and still 
here — Oh !" said she, putting her arm within his, and look- 
ing up brightly in his face, " Oh, we shall be so happy !" 

Poor Leslie was overcome — He caught her to his bosom 
— he folded his arms round her — he kissed her again and 
again — he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his 
eyes ; and he has often assured me that though the world 
has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, in- 
deed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a 
moment of more exquisite felicity. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 



TO ANTHONY EVERGREEN, Gent. 

Sir, 

As you appear to have taken to yourself the trouble of 
meddling in the concerns of the beau-monde, I take the liber- 
ty of appealing to you on a subject, which, though consider- 
ed merely as a very good joke,' has occasioned me great 
vexation and expense. You must know I pride myself on 
being very useful to the ladies, that is, I take boxes for them 
at the theatre, go shopping with thera^ supply them with bou- 
quets, and furnish them with novels from the circulating 
library. In consequence of these attentions I am become a 
great favourite, and there is seldom a party going on in the 
city without my having an invitation. The grievance I 
have to mention is the exchange of hats which takes place 
on these occasions ; for, to speak my mind freely, there are 
certain young gentlemen who seem to consider fashionable 
parties as mere places to barter old clothes : and I am in- 
formed, that a number of them manage by this great system 
of exchcinge to keep their crowns decently covered without 
their hatters suffering in the least by it. 

It was but lately that I went to a private ball with a new 
hat, and on returning in the latter part of the evening, and 
asking for it, the scoundrel of a servant, with a broad grin, 
informed me that the new hats had been dealt out half an 
hour since, and they were then on the third quality ; and I 
was in the end obliged to borrow a young lady's beaver 
rather than go home with any of the ragged remnants that 
were left. 

Now" I would wish to know if there is no possibility of 
having these offenders punished by law; and vv^hether it 
would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their cards 
of invitation, as a- postscript, " Stealing hats and shawls posi- 
tively prohibited." — -At any rate, 1 would thank you, Mr. 
Evergreen, to discountenance the thing totally, by publish- 
ing in your paper, that stealing a hat is no joke. 

Your humble servant, 

Walter V/ithers. 



bo. BEAUTIES OF 

Showing the nature of History in general ; containing fur" 
thermore the universal Jlcquirements of William the 
Testy, and how a man May learn so much as to render 
himself good for nothing. 

When the lofty Tbucydides is about to. enter on his de- 
scription of the plague that desolated Athens, one of his 
modern commentators* assures the reader, that his history 
*' is now going to be exceeding solemn, serious, and pa- 
thetic ;" and hints, with that air of chuckling gratulation, 
with which a good dame draws forth a choice morsel from 
a cupboard to regale a favourite, that this plague will give 
bis history a most agreeable variety. 

In like manner did my heart leap within me, when I 
came to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, which I at 
once perceived to be the forerunner of a series of great events 
and entertaining disasters. Such are the true subjects for 
the historic pen. For what is history in fact, but a kind of 
Newgate Calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries 
that man has inflicted on his fellow men 1 It is a huge libel 
on human nature, to which we industriously add page after 
page, volume after volume, as if v^e were building up a mo- 
nument to tiie honour ratlier than the infamy of our species. 
If we turn over the pages of these chronicles that man has 
written of himself, Vt^hat are the characters dignified by the 
appellation of great, and held up to the aclliii ration of poste- 
rity ? — Tyrants, robbers, conquerors, renowned only for 
the magnitude of their misdeeds and the stupendous wrongs 
and miseries they have inflicted on mankind — warriors, 
who have hired themselves to the trade of blood, not from 
motives of virtuous patriotism, or to protect the injured or 
defenceless, but merely to gain the vaunted glory of being 
adroit and successful in massacreing their fellow beings! 
What are the great events that constitute a glorious era? 
The fall of empires — the desolation of happy countries — ■ 
splendid cities smoking in their ruins— the proudest works 
of art tumbled in the dust — the shrieks and groans of whole 
nations ascending unto heaven ! 

It is thus the historians may be said to thrive on the mi- 
series of mankind — they are like the birds of prey that 

* Smith's Thueyd. vol. L 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 89 

hover over the field of battle, to fatten on the mighty dead. 
It was observed by a great projector of inland lock naviga- 
tion, that rivers, lakes, and oceans were only formed to feed 
canals. In like manner I am tempted to believe, that plots, 
conspiracies, wars, victories, and massacres are ordained by 
Providence only as food for the historian. 

It is a source of great delight to the philosopher in study- 
ing the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the mutual 
dependencies of things, how they are created reciprocally 
for each other, and how the most noxious and apparently 
unnecessary animal has its uses. Thus those swarms of 
flies, which are so otlen execrated as useless vermin, are 
created for the sustenance of spiders ; and spiders, on the 
other hand, are evidently made to devour flies. So those 
heroes who have been such pests in the world were bounte- 
ously provided as themes for the poet and the historian, 
while the poet and historian were destined to record the 
achievements of heroes ! 

These and many similar reflections naturally arose in 
my mind^as I took up my -pen to commence the reign of 
William Kieft, for now the stream of our history, which 
hitherto has rolled in a tranquil current, is about to depart for 
ever from its peaceful haunts, and brawl through many a 
turbulent and rugged scene. Like some sleek ox, which, 
havino; fed and fattened in a rich clover field, lies sunk in 
luxurious repose, and will bear repeated taunts and blows 
before it heaves its unwieldy limbs, and clumsily arouses 
from its slumbers; so the province of the Nieuw Neder- 
landts, having long thriven and grown corpulent under the 
prosperous reign of the Doubter, was reluctantly awakened 
to a melancholy conviction that, by patient sufferance, its 
grievances had become so numerous and aggravating, that 
it was preferable to repel than endure them. The reader 
will now vvitness the manner in which a peaceful communi- 
ty advances toward a state of war; vv'hich it is too apt to 
approach, as a horse does a drum, with much prancing and 
parade, but with little progress and too often with the wrong 
end foremost. 

WiLHELMus KiEFT) who, in 1634, ascended the Guber- 
natorial chair, (to borrow a favourite though clumsy ap- 
pellation of modern phraseoiogists,) was in form, feature, 

8* 



90 BEAUTIES OF 

and character, the very reverse of Wouter Von Twiller, his 
renowned predecessor. He v/as of very respectable de- 
scent, his father being Inspector of Windmills in the ancient 
town of Saardam ; and our hero, we are told, made very 
curious investigations in the nature and operations of those 
machines when a boy, which is one reason why he after- 
wards came to be so ingenious a governor. His name, ac- 
cording to the most ingenious etymologists, was a corrup- 
tion of Kyver, tliat is to say, a wrangler or scolder, and 
expressed the hereditary disposition of his family, v.'hich, 
for nearly two centuries, had kept the windy town of Saar- 
dam in hot water, and produced more tartars and brim- 
stones, than any ten families in the place ; atid so truly did 
Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment, that he had 
scarcely been a year in the discharge of his government, 
before he v/as universally known by the name of William 
THE Testy. 

He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentlenian, who had 
dried and withered awa;/, partly through the natural pro- 
cess of years, and partly from being parched and burned 
up by his fiery soul, which blazed like a vehement rush- 
light in his bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous 
broils, altercations, and misadventures. I have heard it 
observed by a profound and philosophical judge of human 
nature, that if a v/oman waxes fat as she grows old, the 
tenure of her life is very precarious ; but if happily she 
withers, she lives for eter : such likewise was the case with 
Willam the Testy, who grew tougher in proportion as he 
dried. He was some such a little Dutchman as we may 
now and then see, stumping briskly about the streets of our 
city, in a broad skirted coat, with buttons nearly as large 
as the shield of Ajax, an old fashioned cocked hat stuck 
on the back of his head, and a cane as high as his chin. 
His visage was broad, but his features sharp ; his nose turn- 
ed up with a most petulant curl ; his cheeks, like the re- 
gions of Terra del Fuego, were scorched into a dusky red — 
doubtless, in consequence of the neighbourhood of two fierce 
little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul beamed as 
ferventlj^ as a tropical sun blazing through a pair of burn- 
ing glasses. The corners of his mouth were curiously 
modelled into a kind of fretwork, not a little resembling the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 9i 

wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog ; in a word, he 
was one of the most positive, restless, ugly little men that 
ever put himself in a passion about nothing. 

Such were the personal endowments of William the Tes- 
ty ; but it was the sterling riches of his mind that raised 
him to dignity and power. In his youth he had passed 
with great credit through a celebrated academy at the 
Hague, noted for producing finished scholars with a des- 
patch unequalled, except by certain of our American col- 
leges, which seem to manufacture bachelors of arts by some 
patent machine. Here he skirmished very smartly on the 
frontiers of several of the sciences, and made so gallant an 
inroad on the dead languages, as to bring off captive a host 
of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together with divers pithy 
saws and apophthegms ; all of which he constantly paraded 
in conversation and writing, with as much vain glory as 
would a triumphant general of yore display the spoils of the 
countries he had ravished. He had moreover puzzled him- 
self considerably with logic, in which he had advanced so 
far as to attain a very familiar acquaintance, by name at 
least, with the whole family of syllogisms and dilemmas ; 
but what he chiefly valued himself on was his knowledge of 
metaphysics, in which having once upon a time ventured 
too deeply, he came Vv'ell nigh being smothered in a slough 
of unintelligible learning — a fearful peril, from the effects of 
which he never perfectly recovere'd. In plain words, like 
many other profound intermeddlers in this abstruse, be- 
wildering science, he so confused his brain with abstract 
speculations which he could not comprehend, and artificial 
distinctions which he could not realize, that he could never 
think clearly on any subject, however simple, through the 
whole course of his life afterwards. This, I must confess, 
was in some measure a misfortune, for he never engaged in 
argument, of which he was exceeding fond, but what, be- 
tween logical deductions and metaphysical jargon, he soon 
involved himself and his subject in a fog of contradictions 
and perplexities, and then would get into a mighty passion 
with his adversary, for not being convinced gratis. 

It is in knowledge as in swimming, — he who oslenta- 
tiously sports and flounders on the surface makes more 
noise and splashing, and attracts more attention than the 



92 BEAUTIES OF 

industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search of treasures 
to the bottom. The " universal acquirements" of William 
Kieft were the subject of great marvel and admiration 
among his countrymen ; he figured about at the Hague 
with as much vain glory as does a profound Bonze at Pe- 
kin, who has mastered half the letters of the Chinese alpha- 
bet; and, in a word, was unanimously pronounced a uni' 
versal genius ! — I have known many universal geniuses in 
my time, though to speak my mind freely, I never knew one, 
who for the ordinary purposes of life, was worth his weight 
in straw; but for the purposes of government, a little sound 
judgment, and plain common sense, is worth all the spark- 
ling genius that ever wrote poetry, or invented theories. 

Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal ac- 
quirements of the illustrious Wilhelmus were very much in 
his way ; and had he been less a learned man, it is possible 
he would have been a much greater governor. He was ex- 
ceedingly fond of trying philosophical and political experi- 
ments : and having stuffed his head full of scraps and rem- 
nants of ancient republics, and oligarchies, and aristocra- 
cies, and monarchies, and the laws of Solon, and Lycurgus, 
and Charondas, and the imaginary commonwealth of Plato, 
and the Pandects of Justinian, and a thousand other frag- 
ments of venerable antiquity, he was for ever bent upon in-, 
troducing ^ome one or other of them into use ; so that be- 
tween one contradictory measure and another, he entangled 
the government of the little province of Nieuw Nederlandts 
in more knots, during his administration, than half a dozen 
successors could have untied. No sooner had this bustling 
little man been blown by a whiff of fortune into the seat of 
government, than he called together his council, and deliv- 
ered a very animated speech on the aflairs of the province. 
As every body knows what a glorious opportunity a gover- 
nor, a president, or even an emperor has of drubbing his 
enemies in his speeches, messages, and bulletins, where he 
has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure the high- 
mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable an occa- 
sion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue 
common to all able legislators. Before he commence^d, it is 
recorded that he took out his pocket handkerchief, and gave 
a very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 93 

custom of great orators. This, in general, I believe is in- 
tended as a signal trumpet, to call the attention of the audi- 
tors ; but with Willara the Testy it boasted a more classic 
cause, for he had read of the singular expedient of that fa- 
mous demagogue Caius Gracchus, who, when he haran- 
gued the Roman populace, modulated his tones by an ora- 
torical flute or pitch-pipe. 

This preparatory symphony being performed, he com- 
menced by expressing an humble sense of his own want of 
talents, his utter un worthiness of the honour conferred upon 
him, and his humiliating incapacity to discharge the import- 
ant duties of his new station; in short, he expressed so con- 
temptible an opinion of himself, that many simple country 
members present, ignorant that these were mere words of 
course, always used on such occasions, were very uneasy, 
and even felt wrath that he should accept an office for 
which he was consciously so inadequate. 

He then proceeded in a manner highly classic, profound- 
ly erudite, and nothing at all to the purpose ; being nothing 
more than a pompous account of all the governments of an- 
cient Greece, and the wars of Rome and Carthage, together 
with the rise and fall of sundry outlandish empires, about 
which the assembly knew no more than their great grand- 
children who were yet unborn. Thus having, after the 
manner of your learned orators, convinced the audience 
that he was a man of many words and great erudition , he 
at length came to the less important part of his speech, the 
situation of the province ; and here he soon worked himself 
into a fearful rage against the Yankees, whom he compared 
to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the Goths and Van- 
dals who overran the fairest plains of Europe — nor did he 
forget to mention, in terms of adequate opprobrium, the in- 
solence with which they had encroached upon the territories 
of New Netherlands, and the unparalleled audacity with 
which they had commenced the town of New Plymouth, 
and planted the onion patches of Weathersfield under the 
very wails of Fort Goed Hoop. 

Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to a 
climax, he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, with 
a nod of knowing import, that he had taken measures to 
put a final stop to these encroachments — that he had been 



94 BEAUTIES OF 

obliged to have recourse to a dreadful engine of vv^arfare, 
lately invented, awful in its effects, but authorized by dire- 
ful necesssity. In a word, he was resolved to conquer the 
Yankees — by proclamation. 

For this purpose he had prepared a trenaendous instru- 
ment of the kind, ordering, commanding, and enjoining the 
intruders aforesaid, forthwith to remove, depart, and with- 
draw from the districts, regions, and territories aforesaid, 
under the pain of suffering all the penalties, forfeitures, and 
punishments, in such case made and provided, &c. This 
proclamation, he assured them, would at once exterminate 
the enemy from the face of the country ; and he pledged 
his valour as a governor, that within two months after it 
was published, not one stone should remain on another in 
any of the towns which they had built. 

The council remained lor some time silent after he had 
finished ; whether struck dumb with admiration at the bril- 
liancy of his project, or put to sieep by the length of his 
harangue, the history of the times doth not mention. Suf- 
fice it to say, they at length gave a general grunt of ac- 
quiescence ; the proclamation was immediately despatched 
with due ceremony, having the great seal of the province, 
which was about the size of a buckwheat pancake, attached 
to it by a broad red riband. Governor Kieft, having thus 
vented his indignation, felt greatly relieved— adjourned the 
council si?ie die — put on his cocked hat and corduroy small- 
clothes, and, mounting on a tall raw-boned charger, trotted 
out to his country seat, which was situated in a sweet se- 
questered swamp, now called Dutch Street, but more com- 
monly known by the name of Dog's Misery. 

Here, like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils of 
legislation, taking lessons in Government, not from the 
Nymph Ageria, but from the honoured wife of his bosom ; 
who was one of that peculiar kind of females, sent upon 
earth a little before the flood, as a punishment for the sins 
of mankind, and commonly known by the appellation of 
knowing women. In fact, my duty as an historian obliges 
me to make known a circumstance which was a great se- 
cret at the time, and consequently was not a subject of scan- 
dal at more than half the tea-tables of New-Amsterdam, but 
which, like many other great secrets, has leaked out in the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 95 

lapse of years ; and this was, that the great Wilhelmus the 
Testy, though one of the most potent little men that ever 
breathed, yet submitted at home to a species of government, 
neither laid down in Aristotle nor Plato ; in short, it partook 
of the nature of a pure, unmixed tyranny, and is familiarly 
denominated petticoat government. An absolute sway, 
which, though exceedingly common in these modern days, 
was very rare among the ancients, if we may judge from 
the rout made about the domestic economy of honest So- 
crates, which is the only ancient case on record. 

The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers and 
sarcasms of his particular friends, who are ever ready to 
joke with a man on sore points of the kind, by alleging it 
was a government of his own election, to which he submitted 
through choice; adding, at the same time, a profound maxim 
which he had found in an ancient author, that " he who 
would aspire to govern, should first learn to obey,'''' 



DIRK SCHUILER, 

AND THE VALIANT PETER. 

This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker,) a kind of hang» 
er-on to the garrison, who seemed to belong to nobody, and 
in a manner to be self-outlawed. He was one of those vaga= 
bond cosmopolites, who shark about the world as if they 
had no right or business in it ; and who infest the skirts of 
society, like poachers and interlopers. Every garrison and 
country village has one or more scapegoats of this kind, 
whose life is a kind of enigma, whose existence is without 
motive, who comes from the Lord knows where, who [ives 
the Lord knows how, and seems to be made for no other 
earthly purpose but to keep up the ancient and honourable 
order of idleness. This vagabond philosopher was suppos- 
ed to have some Indian blood in his veins, which, was mani- 
fested by a certain Indian complexion and cast of counte- 
nance ; but more especially by his propensities and habits» 



BBAWTIfiS OF 



He was a tall, lank fellow, swift of foot, and long-winded. 
He was generally equipped in a half Indian dress, with belt, 
leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung in strait gallows- 
locks about his ears, and added not a little to his sharking 
demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons of Indian mix- 
ture are half civilized, half savage, and half devil; a third 
half being expressly provided for their particular conve- 
nience. It is for similar reasons, and probably with equal 
truth, that the back-wood men of Kentucky are styled half 
man, b.alf horse, and half alligator by the settlers on the 
Mississippi, and held accordingly in great respect and ab- 
horrence. 

The above character may have presented itself to the 
garrison as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly 
dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknowledged alle- 
giance to no one — was an utter enemy to work, holding it 
in no manner of estimation — but lounged about the fort, de- 
pending upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk when- 
ever he could get liquor, and stealing whatever he could lay 
his hands on. Every day or two he was sure to get a sound 
rib-roasting for some of his misdemeanours, which, however, 
as it broke no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled 
not to repeat the offence whenever another opportunity pre- 
sented. Sometimes, in consequence of some flagrant villany, 
he would abscond from the garrison, and be absent for a 
month at a time ; skulking about the woods and swamps, 
with a long fowling-piece on his shoulder, laying in ambush 
for game, or squatting himself down on the edge of a pond 
catching fish for hours together, and bearing no little resem- 
blance 10 that notable bird ycleped the Mud-pole. When he 
thought his crimes had been forgotten or forgiven, he would 
sneak back to the fort with a bundle of skins, or a bunch of 
poultry, which perchance he had stolen, and would exchange 
them for liquor, with which, having well soaked his carcass, 
he would lay in the sun and enjoy all the luxurious indo- 
lence of that swinish philosopher Diogenes. He was the 
terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into which he 
made l^earful inroads ; and some times he would make his 
sudden appearance at the garrison at daybreak, with the 
whole neighbourhood at his heels, like a scoundrel thief of a 
fox, detected in his maraudings, and hunted to his hole. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. &7 

Such was this Dirk Schuiler ; and from the total indiffer- 
ence he showed to this world or its concerns, and from his 
truly Indian stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever 
have dreamed that he would have been the publisher of the 
treachery of Risingh. 

When the carousal was going on, which proved so fatal 
to the brave Von Poffenburgh and his watchful garrison. 
Dirk skulked about from room to room, being a kind of 
privileged vagrant or useless hound, whom nobody noticed. 
But though a fellow of iJew words, yet, like your tsiciturn 
people, his eyes and ears were always open, and in the 
course of his prowlings he overheard the whole plot of the 
Swedes. Dirk immediately settled in his own mind how he 
should turn the matter to his own advantage. He played 
the perfect jack-of-both-sides ; that is to say, he made a 
prize of every thing that came in his reach, robbed both par- 
ties, stuck the copper-bound cocked hat of the puissant Von 
Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a huge pair of Risingh's 
jackboots under his arm, and took to his heels just before 
the catastrophe and confusion at the garrison. 

Finding himself completely dislodged ■ from his haunt in 
this quarter, he directed his flight towards his native place, 
New-Amsterdam, from whence he had formerly been oblig- 
ed to abscond precipitately, in consequence of misfortune in 
business, that is to say, having been detected in the act of 
sheep-stealing. After wandering many days in the woods, 
toiling through swamps, fording brooks, swimming various 
rivers, and encountering a world of hardships that would 
have killed any other being but an Indian, a back-wood 
man, or the devil ; he at length arrived, half-famished, and 
lank as a starved weasel at Communipaw, where he stole a 
canoe, and paddled over to New-Amsterdam. Immediately 
on landing, he repaired to Governor Stuyvesant, and in more 
words than he had ever spoken before in the whole course 
of his life, gave an account of the disastrous affair. 

On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant Peter start- 
ed from his seat, as did the stout King Arthur when at 
*' merry Carleile," the news was brought him of the uncour- 
teous misdeeds of the " grim barone" — without uttering a 
word, he dashed the pipe he was smoking against the back 
of the chimney, thrust a prodigious quid of negro headed to- 



98 BEAUTIES OF 

bacco into his left cheek, pulled up his galligaskins, and 
strode up and down the room, humming, as was customary 
with him when in a passion, a hideous north-west ditty. 
But, as I have before shown, he was not a man to vent his 
spleen in idle vapouring. His first measure after the parox- 
ysm of wrath had subsided, was to stump up stairs to a huge 
wooden chest, which served as his armoury, from whence 
he drew forth that identical suit of regimentals described in 
the preceding chapter. Tn these portentous habiliments he 
arrayed himself, like Achilles in the armour of Vulcan, and 
maintaining all the while a most appalling silence, knitting 
his brows, and drawing his breath through his clenched 
teeth. Being hastily equipped, he strode down into the par- 
lour, jerked down his trusty sword from over the fire-place, 
where it was usually suspended ; but before he girded it on 
his thigh he drew it from its scabbard, and as his eye cours- 
ed along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over his iron 
visage. It was the first smile that had visited his counte- 
nance for five long weeks ; but every one who beheld it pro- 
phesied that there would soon be warm work in the province ! 
Thus armed at all points, with grisly war depicted in each 
feature, his very cocked hat assuming an air of uncommon, 
defiance, he instantly put himself on the alert, and despatch- 
ed Anthony Van Coriear hither and thither, this way and 
that way, through all the muddy streets and crooked lanes 
of the city, summoning by sound of trumpet his trusty peers 
to assemble in instant council. This done, by way of ex- 
pediting matters, according to the custom of people in a hur- 
ry, he kept in continual bustle, shifting from chair to chair, 
popping his head out of every window, and stumping up and 
down stairs with his wooden leg in such brisk and incessant 
motion, that, as we are informed by an authentic historian 
of the times, the continual clatter bore no small resemblance 
to the music of a cooper hooping a flour barrel. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 99 

Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
City of Neic- Amsterdam — together loith the interview 
between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Poffen- 
burgh ; and Peter^s sentiments respecting unfortunate 
great men* 

While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with flow- 
ing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arousing 
all the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements upon its borders, 
a great and puissant concourse of warriors was assembling 
at the city of New-Amsterdam, And here that invaluable 
fragment of antiquity, the Stuyvesant manuscript, is more 
than commonly particular ; by which means I am enabled 
to record the illustrious host that encamped itself on the-, 
public square, in front of the fort, at present denominatea 
the Bowling Green. 

In the centre then was pitched the tents of the men of 
battle of the Manhattoes ; who, being the inmates of the 
metropolis, composed the life-guards of the governor. These 
were commanded by the valiant Stoifel Brinkerhoof, who 
whilome had acquired such immortal fame at Oyster Bay — 
they displayed as a standard, a beaver rampant on a field 
of orange ; being the arms of the province, and denoting the 
persevering industry, and the amphibious origin of the Ned- 
erlanders.* 

On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that re- 
nowned Mynheer Michael Paw,| who lorded it over the fair 
regions on ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south, even 
unto the Navesink mountains,:}: and was moreover patroon 
of Gibbet-Island. His standard was borne by his trusty 
squire, Cornelius Van Vorst ; consisting of a huge oyster 
recumbent upon a sea green field, being the armorial bear- 

* This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands, as may still be seen 
iu ancient records. 

t Besides what is related in the Stviyvesant MS. I have found mention made of 
this illustrious patroon in another manuscript, which says :— " De Heer (or the 
Squire) Michael Paw, a Dutch subject, about 10th August, 1630, by deed purchas- 
ed Staten Island. N. B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colo- 
nie at Pavonia, on the Jersey shore, opposite New York, and his overseer, in 1636, 
was named. Corns. Van Vorst— a person of the same name, in 1769, owned Pawles 
Hook, and a large farm at Pavonia, and is a lineal descendant from Van Vorst." 

X So called from the Navesink tribe of Indians, that inhabited these parts ; at 
present they ai-e erroneously denominated the Nevcrsink, or Neversunk mountains^ 



100 BEAUTIES OF 

ings of his favourite metropolis, Commiinipaw. He brought 
to the camp a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being 
each clad in ten pair of linsey woolsey breeches, and over- 
shadowed by broad brimmed beavers, with short pipes 
twisted in their hatbands. These were the men who vege- 
tated in the mud along the shores of Pavonia; being of the 
race of genuine copperheads, and were fabled to have sprung 
from oysters. 

At a little distance was encamped the tribe of warriors 
who came from the neighbourhood of Hell-Gate. These 
were commanded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, 
incontinent hard swearers as their names betoken- — they 
were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gaber- 

les, of that curious coloured cloth called thunder and 
!§btning ; and bore as a standard three devil's darning-nee- 
dles, volant, in a flame coloured field. 

Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the marshy 
borders of the Wael-bogtig,* and the country thereabouts-— 
these were of a sour aspect, by reason that they lived on 
crabs, which abound in these parts : they were the first in- 
stitutors of that honourable order of knighthood, called Fly 
market shirks ; and if tradition speak true, did likewise in- 
troduce the far famed step in dancing, called " double trou- 
ble." They were commanded by the fearless Jacobus Varra 
Vanger, and had moreover, a jolly band of Breukelenf fer- 
rymen, who performed a brave concerto on conchshells. 

But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, which 
goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemen-dael, and Wee- 
hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, well known 
in history and song — for now does the sound of martial 
music alarm the people of New-Amsterdam, sounding afar 
from beyond the walls of the city. But this alarm was in 
a little time relieved, for lo, from the midst of a vast cloud 
of dust, they recognized the brimstone coloured breeches, 
and splendid silver leg of Peter Stuyvesant glaring in the 
sunbeams ; and beheld him approaching at the head of a 
formidable army, which he had mustered along the banks 

^ * ii. e. The Winding Bay, named from. <he windings of its shores. This has 
since been corrupted by the vulgar into the JVallabout, and is the basin which 
shelters our infant navy, 
t Now spelt Brooklyn. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 101 

of the Hudson. And here the excellent but anon3''mous 
writer of the Scuyvesant manuscript breaks out into a brave 
but glorious description of the forces, as they defiled 
through the principal gate of the city that stood by the 
head of Wall-street. 

First of all came the Van Bummels, who inhabit the 
pleasant borders of the Bronx. These were short fat men, 
wearing exceeding large trunk breeches, and are renowned 
for feats of the trencher : they were the first inventors of 
suppawn, or mush and milk. Close in their rear marched 
the Van Vlotans, of Kaats Kill, most horrible quaffers of 
new cider, and arrant braggarts in their liquor. — After 
them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt Esopus dexterous 
horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch-tailed steeds of the 
Esopus breed : those were mighty hunters of minks and 
musk rats, whence came the word Peltry. Then the Van 
Nests of Kinderhoek, valiant robbers of birds' nests, as their 
name denotes : to these, if the report may be believed, are 
we indebted for the invention pf slap-jacks, or buckwheat 
cakes. Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's Creek : 
these came armed with ferules and birchen rods, being a 
race of schoolmasters, who first discovered the marvellous 
sympathy between the seat of honour and the seat of intel- 
lect, and that the shortest way to get knowledge into the 
head was to hammer it into the bottom. Then the Van 
Grolls, of Anthony's Nose, who carried their liquor in fair 
round little pottles, by reason they could not bouse it out of 
their canteens, having such rare long noses. Then the 
Gardeniers, of Hudson and thereabouts, distinguished by 
many triumphant feats, such as robbing watermelon patches, 
smoking rabbits out of their holes, and the like, and by being 
great lovers of roasted pigs' tails : these were the ancestors 
of the renowned congressman of that name. Then the Van 
Hoesen's of Sing-Song, great choristers and players upon 
the Jew's-harp : these marched two and two, singing the 
great song of St. Nicholas. Then the Couenhovens of 
Sleepy Hollow : these gave birth to a jolly race of publi- 
cans, who first discovered the magic art of conjuring a 
quart of wine into a pint bottle. Then the Van Kortlandts, 
who lived on the wild banks of the Croton, and were great 
killers of wild ducks, being much spoken of for their skill 

9* 



102 BEAUTIES OF 

in shooting v/ith the long bow. Then the Van Bunscho- 
lens, of Nyock and Kakiat, who were the first that did ever 
kick with the left foot; they were gallant bush-whackers, 
and hunters of racoons, by moonlight. Then the Van 
Winkles of Haerlem, potent suckers of eggs, and noted for 
running of horses, and running up of scores at taverns : 
they were the first that ever winked with both eyes at once. 
Lastly, catne the Knickerbockeks, of the great town of 
Schahtikoke, where the folk lay stones upon the houses in 
windy weather, lest they should be blown away. These 
derive their name, as some say, from K?iiker, to shake, 
and BecJi'er, a goblet, indicating thereby that they v/ere 
sturdy tosspots of yore; but in truth, it was derived from 
Knicker, to nod, and Boeken, books, plainly meaning that 
they were great nodders or dozers over books : from them 
did descend the writer of this history. 

Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters, that poured 
in at the grand gate of New-Amsterdam- The Stuyvesant 
manuscript, indeed, speaks of many more, whose names I 
omit to mention, seeing that it behoves me to' hasten to mat- 
ters of greater moment. Nothing could surpass the joy and 
martial pride of the lion-hearted Peter, as he reviewed this 
mighty host of warriors ; and he determined no longer to 
defer the gratification of his much-wished for revenge, upon 
the scoundrel Swedes at Fort Casimir. 

But before I hasten to record those unmatchable events 
which will be found in the sequel of this faithful history, 
let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Von PofTenburgh, 
the discomfited commander-in-chief of the armies of the 
New-Netherlands. Such is the inherent uncharitableness 
of human nature, that scarcely did the news become public, 
of his deplorable discomfiture at Fort Casimir than a thou- 
sand scurvy rumours were set afloat in New-Amsterdam ; 
wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality a treach- 
erous understanding with the Swedish commander; that he 
had long been in the practice of privately communicating 
with the Swedes ; together with divers hints about " secret 
service money," — to all which deadly charges I do not give 
a jot more credit than I think they deserve. 

Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character by 
the most vehement oaths and protestations, and put every 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 103 

inan out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt his in- 
tegrity. Moreover, on returning to New-iVmsterdam, he 
paraded up and dovv'n the streets with a crew of hard swear- 
ers at his heels, — sturdy bottle companions^ whom he 
gorged and fattened, and v.'ho were ready to bolster him 
through all the courts of justice, — heroes of his own kidney, 
fierce whiskered, broad shouldered, colbrand looking swag- 
gerers, not one of whom but looked as though he could eat 
up an ox, and pick his teeth v/ith the horns. These life- 
guard men quarrelled all his quarrels, were ready to fight 
all his battles, and scowled at every man that turned up his 
nose to the general, as though they would devour him alive. 
Their conversation was interspersed with oaths like minute 
guns, and every bombastic rhodom.ontado was rounded off* 
by a thundering execration like a patriotic toast honoured 
with a discharge of artillery. 

All these valorous vapourings had a considerable effect 
in convincing certain profound sages, many of whom began 
to think the general a hero of unutterable loftiness and mas- 
nanimity of soul, particularly as he was continually protest- 
ing on the honour of a soldier^ — a marvellously high sound- 
ing asseveration. Nay, one of the members of the council 
went so far as to propose they should immortalize him by 
an imperishable statue of plaster of Paris. 

But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was. not thus to be 
deceived. Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of 
all the armies, and having heard all his story, garnished 
with the customary pious oaths, protestations, and ejacula- 
tions — " Harkee, comrade," cried he, " though by your 
own account you are the most brave, upright, and honour- 
able man in the v/hole province, yet do you lie under the 
misfortune of being damnably traduced and immeasurably 
despised. Novv? though it is certainly hard to punish a man 
for his misfortunes, and though it is very possible you are 
totally innocent of the crimes laid to your charge; yet as- 
heaven, at present, doubtless for some wise purpose, sees fit 
to withhold all proofs of your innocence, far be it from me 
to counteract its sovereign will. Beside, I cannot consent 
to venture my armies with a commander whom they des- 
pise, or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion 
whom they distrust. Retire, therefore, my friend, from the 



104 BEAUTIES OF 

irksome toils and cares of public life, with this comforting 
reflection — that if you be guilty, you are but enjoying your 
just reward — and if innocent, that you are not the first great 
and good man, who has most wrongfully been slandered 
and maltreated in this wicked world — doubtless to be better 
treated in a better world, where there shall neither be error, 
calumny, nor persecution. In the mean time let me never 
see your face again, for I have a horrid antipathy to the 
countenances of unfortunate great men like yoUi'lelf." 



Of Peter Stnyvesanfs expedition into the East Country / 
showing that, though an old Bird, he did not understand 
Trap. 

Great nations resemble great men in this particular, 
that their greatness is seldom known until they get in trou- 
ble; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denominated the 
ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can never receive 
its real estimation until it has passed through the furnace. 
In proportion, therefore, as a nation, a community, or an in- 
dividual (possessing the inherent quality of greatness) is in- 
volved in perils and misfortunes, in proportion does it rise 
in grandeur — and even when sinking under calamity, makes, 
like a house on fire, a more glorious display than ever it 
did in the fairest period of its prosperity. 

The vast empire of China, though teeming with popula- 
tion, and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, 
has vegetated through a succession ojf drowsy ages ; and 
were it not for its internal revolution and the subversion of 
its ancient government by the Tartars, might have present- 
ed nothing but an uninteresting detail, of dull, monotonous 
prosperity. Pompeii and Herculaneum might have passed 
into oblivion, with a herd of their contemporaries, had they 
not been fortunately overwhelmed by a volcano. The re- 
nowned city of Troy has acquired celebrity only from its 
ten years' distress and final conflagration; Paris rises in 
importance by the plots and massacres which have ended 
in the exaltation of the illustrious Napoleon ; and even the 
mighty London itself has skulked through the records of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 

time, celebrated for nothing of moment, excepting the plague^ 
the great fire, and Guy Faux's gunpowder plot ! Tims 
cities and empires seem to creep along, enlarging in silent 
obscurity under the pen of the historian, until at length they 
burst forth in some tremendous calamity, and snatch, as it 
were, immortality from the explosion ! 

The above principle being admitted, my reader will plain- 
ly perceive that the city of New-Amsterdam and its depend- 
ent province are on the high road to greatness. Dangers 
and hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a 
matter of astonishment to me, how so small a state has been 
able, in so short a time, to entangle itself in so many diffi- 
culties. Ever since the province was first taken by the 
nose at the Fort of Good Hope, in the tranquil days of 
Wouter Van Tvviller, has it been gradually increasing in 
historic importance ; and never could it have had a more 
appropriate chieftain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur 
than Peter Stuyvesant. 

In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat en- 
throned all those five kinds of courage described by Aris- 
totle ; and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred 
more to the back of them, I verily believe he would have 
been found master of them all. The only misfortune was, 
that he was deficient in the better part of valour called dis- 
cretion, a cold-blooded virtue which could not exist in the 
tropical climate of his mighty soul. Hence it was, he was 
continually hurrying into those unheard-of enterprises that 
gave an air of chivalric romance to all his history ; and 
hence it Vv'as, that he now conceived a project worthy of the 
hero of La Mancha himself. 

This was no other than to repair in person to the great coun- 
cil of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one hand, and 
the olive branch in the other ; to require immediate repara- 
tion for the innumerable violations of that treaty, which, in 
an evil hour, he had formed ; to put a stop to those repeat- 
ed maraudings on the eastern borders ; or else to throw the 
gauntlet, and appeal to arms for satisfaction. 

On declaring this resolution in his privy council, the 
venerable members were seized with vast astonishment : 
for once in their lives they ventured to remonstrate, setting 
forth the rashness of exposing -his sacred person in the 



106 BEAUTIES OF 

midst of a strange and barbarous people, with sundry other 
weighty remonstrances — all which had about as much in- 
fluence upon the determination of the headstrong Peter, as 
though you were to endeavour to turn a rusty weathercock 
with a broken-winded bellows. 

Summoning, therefore, to his presence his trusty follower, 
Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself 
in readiness to accompany him the following morning on 
this his hazardous enterprise. Now Anthony, the trumpeter, 
was a little stricken in years, yet by dint of keeping up a 
good heart, and having never known care or sorrow (having 
never been married,) he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicund, 
gamesome wag, and of great capacity in the doublet. This 
last was ascribed to his living a jolly life on those domains 
at the Hook, which Peter Stuyvesant had granted to him 
for his gallantry at Fort Casimir. 

Be this as it may, there was nothing that more delighted 
Anthony than this command of the great Peter ; for he could 
have followed the stout-hearted old governor to the world's 
end, with love and loyalty : and he moreover still remem- 
bered the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, and other 
disports of the east country ; and entertained dainty recol- 
lection of numerous kind and buxom lasses, whom he longed 
exceedingly again to encounter. 

Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with 
no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of the most 
perilous enterprises ever recorded in the annals of knight- 
errantry. For a single warrior to venture openly among a 
whole nation of foes ; but, above all, for a plain, downright 
Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole council of 
New-England — never was there known a more desperate 
undertaking! Ever since I have entered upon the chroni- 
cles of this peerless, but hitherto uncelebrated chieftain, has he 
kept me in a state of incessant action and anxiety with the 
toils and dangers he is constantly encountering. Oh ! for 
a chapter of the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, that 
I might repose on it as on a feather bed ! 

Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once al- 
ready rescued thee from the machinations of these terrible 
Amphyctions, by bringing the whole powers of witchcraft 
to thine aid?— is it not enough, that I have followed thee 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 

undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the midst of the hor- 
rid battle of Fort Christina ? That I have been put inces- 
santly to my trumps to keep thee safe and sound — now 
warding off with my single pen the shower of dastard blows 
that tell upon thy rear — now narrowly shielding thee from 
a deadly thrust, by a mere tobacco-box — now casing thy 
dauntless skull with adamant, when even thy stubborn ram- 
beaver failed to resist the sword of the stout Risingh — and 
now, not merely bringing thee off alive, but triumphant, 
from the clutches of the gigantic Swede, by the desperate 
means of a paltry stone pottle ?— Is not all this enough, but 
must thou still be plunging into new difficulties, and jeopard- 
izing in headlong enterprises thyself, thy trumpeter, and 
thy historian? 

- And now the ruddy -faced Aurora, like a buxom chamber- 
maid, draws aside the sable curtains of the night, and out 
bounces from his bed the jolly red-haired Phoebus, startled 
at being caught so late in the embraces of Dame Thetis. 
With many a stable oath, he harnesses his brazen-footed 
steeds, and whips and lashes, and splashes up the firmament, 
like a loitering post-boy, half an hour behind his time. And 
now behold that imp of fame and prowess, the headstrong 
Peter, bestriding a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallant- 
ly arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh that 
trusty brass-hilted sword, v,^hich had wrought such fearful, 
deeds on the banks of the Delaware. 

Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter. Van Cor- 
lear, mounted on a broken-winded, wall-eyed, calico mare ; 
his stone pottle which had laid low the mighty Risingh, 
slung under his arm, and his trumpet displayed vauntingly 
in his right hand, decorated v/ith a gorgeous banner, on 
which is emblazoned the great beaver of the Manhattoes. 
See him proudly issuing out of the city gate, like an iron-clad 
hero of yore, with his faithful squire at his heels, the popu- 
lace following them with their eyes, and shouting many a 

parting wish, and hearty cheering. Farewell, Hard- 

koppig Piet ! Farewell, honest Anthony ! — Pleasant be your 
wayfaring — prosperous your return ! The stoutest hero that 
ever drew a sword, and the worthiest trumpeter that ever 
trod shoe leather. 

Legends are lamentably silent about the events that be- 



108 BEAUTIES OF 

fell our adventurers, in this their adventurous travel, except- 
ing the Stuyvesant manuscript, which gives the substance of 
a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the occasion by 
Domini ^gidius Luyck,* who appears to have been the 
poet-laureate of New-Amsterdam. This inestimable manu- 
script assures us, that it was a rare spectacle to behold the 
great Peter, and his loyal follower, hailing the morning sun, 
and rejoicing in the clear countenance of nature, as they 
pranced it through the pastoral scenes of Bloomen Dael ;t 
which, in those days, was a wild flower, refreshed by many 
a pure streamlet, and enlivened here and there by a delecta- 
ble little Dutch cottage, sheltering under some sloping hill, 
and almost buried in embowering trees. 

Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, 
where they encountered many grievous difficulties and pe- 
rils. At one place they were assailed by a troop of country 
squires and militia colonels, who, mounted on goodly steeds, 
hung upon their rear for several miles, harassing them ex- 
ceedingly with guesses and questions, more especially the 
worthy Peter, whose silver chased leg excited not a httle 
marvel. At another place, hard by the renowned town of 
Stamford, they were set upon by a great and mighty legion 
of church deacons, who imperiously demanded of them five 
shillings for travelling on Sunday, and threatened to carry 
them captive to a neighbouring church, v/hose steeple peer- 
ed above the trees : but these the valiant Peter put to rout 
with little difficulty, insomuch that they bestrode their canes 
and gallopped off in horrible confusion, leaving their cocked 
hats behind in the hurry of their flight. But not so easily 
did he escape from the hands of a crafty man of Pyquag ; 
who, with undaunted perseverance, and repeated onsets, 
fairly bargained him out of his goodly switched-iailed charg- 
er, leaving him in place thereof a villanous, spavined, found- 
ered Narraganset pacer. 

But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their jour- 
ney cheerily along the courses of the soft flowing Connecti- 
cut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many 

* This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin school in Nieuw-Nederlandts, 
1663. There are two jjieces of jEgidins Luyck in D. Selyn's MSS. of poesies, 
upon his marriage with Judith Isendoorn. Old MS. 

t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. 



WASHINGTON IRVINCf. 109 

a fertile vale and sunny plain ; now reflecting the lofty spires 
of the bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the hum- 
ble hamlet ; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, 
and now with the cheerful song of the peasant. 

At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted 
for warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Anthony to sound a 
courteous salutation ; though the manuscript observes, that 
the inhabitants were thrown in great dismay when they 
heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable 
achievements on the Delaware, had spread throughout the 
east country, and they dreaded lest he had come to take ven- 
geance on their manifold transgressions. 

But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smil- 
ing aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible majesty and 
condescension ; for he verily believed that the old clothes 
which these ingenious people had thrust into their broken- 
windows, and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which 
ornamented the front of their houses, Vv^ere so many decora- 
tions in honour of his approach ; as it was the custom in the 
days of chivalry to compliment renowned heroes, by sump- 
tuous displays of tapestry and gorgeous furniture. The wo- 
men crowded to the doors to gaze upon him as he passed, 
so much does prowess in arms delight the gentle sex. The 
little children too i^an after him in troops, staring with won- 
der at his regimentals, his brimstone breeches, and silver 
garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I omit to mention 
the joy which many strapping wenches betrayed, at behold- 
ing the jovial Van Corlear, who had whilome delighted them 
so much with his trumpet, when he bore the great Peter's 
challenge to the Amphyctions. The kind-hearted Anthony 
alighted from his calico mare, and kissed them all with in- 
finite loving kindness — and was right pleased to see a crew 
of little trumpeters crowding around him for his blessing ; 
each of whom he patted on the head, bade him be a good 
boy, and gave him a penny to buy molasses candy. 

The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but little further men- 
tion of the governor's adventures upon, this expedition, ex- 
cepting that he was received with extravagant courtesy and 
respect by the great council of the Amphyctions, who almost 
talked him to death with comphmentary and congratulatory 
harangues. I will not detain my readers by dwelling on 

10 



110 BEAUTIES OF 

his negotiations with the grand council. Suffice it to men- 
tion, it was Hke all other negotiations — a great deal was 
said, and very little done : one conversation led to another — 
one conference begat misunderstandings which it took a do- 
zen conferences to explain ; at the end of which the parties 
found themselves just where they were at first ; excepting 
that they had entangled themselves in a host of questions of 
etiquette, and conceived a cordial distrust of each other, that 
rendered their future negotiations ten times more difficult 
than ever.* 

In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewildered the 
brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was per- 
haps, of all men in the world, least fitted for diplomatic 
wiles, he privately received the first intimation of the dark 
conspiracy which had been matured in the Cabinet of Eng- 
land. To this was added the astounding intelligence that a 
hostile squadron had already sailed from England, destined 
to reduce the province of New-Netherlands, and that the 
grand council of Amphyctions had engaged to co-operate, 
by sending a great army to invade New-Amsterdam by 
land ! 

Unfortunate Peter ! did I not enter with sad forebodings 
upon this ill-starred expedition? Did I not tremble when I 
saw thee with no other counsellor but thine own head — 
with no other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless con- 
science, and a rusty sword — with no other protector but St. 
Nicholas — and no other attendant but a trumpeter? Did I 
not tremble when I beheld thee thus sally forth to contend 
with all the knowing powers of New-England ? 

Oh how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when 
he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the hunter's 
toil ! Now did he determine to draw his trusty sword, and 
manfully to fight his way through all the countries of the 
east. Now did he resolve to break in upon the council of 
the Amphyctions, and put every mother's son of them to 
death. At length, as his direful wrath subsided, he resorted 
to safer though less glorious expedients. 

Concealing from the council his knowledge of their ma- 

* For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation, see Haz. Col. State 
rap. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with respect to this memorable 
expedition of Peter Stuyvesant. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. Ill 

chinations, he privately despatched a trusty messenger with 
missives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, apprising 
them of the impending danger, commanding them immedi- 
ately to put the city in a posture of defence, while in the 
mean time he would endeavour to elude his enemies and 
come to their assistance. This done, he felt himself mar- 
vellously relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhino- 
ceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the same man- 
ner as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubt- 
ing Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
And how much does it grieve me that I must leave the 
gallant Peter in this imminent jeopardy : but it behooves us 
to hurry back and see what is going on at New-Amsterdam, 
for greatly do I fear that city is already in a turmoil. Such 
was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant ; while doing one thing 
with heart and soul, he was too apt to leave every thing 
else at sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, 
he was absent attending to those things in person, which in 
modern days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, his 
little territory at home was sure to get in an uproar — all 
which was owing to that uncommon strength of intellect, 
which induced him to trust to nobody but himself, and which 
had acquired him the renowned appellation of Peter the 
Headstrong. 



How the People vf New -Amsterdam were throivn into a 
great Panic by the News of a threatened Invasion : and 
the Manner in which they fortified themselves. 

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philosopher 
than to contemplate a community v/here every individual 
has a voice in public affairs, where every individual thinks 
himself the Atlas of the nation, and where every individual 
thinks it his duty to bestir himself for the good of his country. 
I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher 
than to see such ^ community in a sudden bustle of war. 
Such a clamour of tongues, such a bawling of patriotism, 
such running hither and thither, every body in a hurry, eve- 
ry body up to the ears in trouble, every body in the way, 



112 BEAUTIES OF 

and every body interrupting his industrious neighbour, who 
is busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witnessing a 
great fire, where every man is at work like a hero ; some 
dragging about empty engines ! others scampering with full 
buckets, and spilling the contents into the boots of their 
neighbour ; and others ringing the church bells at night, by 
way of putting out the fire. Little firemen, like sturdy little 
knights storming a breach, clambering up and down scal- 
ing-ladders, and bawhng through tin trumpets, by way of 
directing the attack. Here one busy fellow, in his great 
zeal to save the property of the unfortunate, catches up an 
anonymous chamber utensil, and gallants it off with an air 
of as much self-importance, as if he had rescued a pot of 
money ; another throws looking glasses and china out of 
the window, to save them from the flames ; while those, who 
can do nothing else to assist the great calamity, run up and 
down the streets with open throats, keeping up an incessant 
cry of — Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! 

" When the news arrived at Sirsope," says the grave and 
profound Lucian, though I own the story is rather trite, 
" that Philip was about to attack tliem, the inhabitants were 
thrown into violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their 
arms ; others rolled stones to build up the walls ; every bo- 
dy, in short, was employed, and every body was in the way 
of his neighbour. Diogenes alone was the only man who 
could find nothing to do; whereupon, determining not to be 
idle when the welfare of his country was at stake, he tucked 
up his robe, and fell to rolling his tub with might and main, 
up and down the Gymnasium." In like manner did every 
mother's son, in the patriotic community of New-Amster- 
dam, on receiving the missives of Peter Stuyvesant, busy 
himself most mightily in putting things into confusion, and 
assisting the general uproar. " Every man," saith the Stuy- 
vesant manuscript, " flew to arms !" By which is meant, 
that not one of our honest Dutch citizens would venture to 
church or to market, without an old fashioned spit of a sword 
dangling at his side, and a long Dutch fowling-piece on his 
shoulder ; nor would he go out of a night without a lantern ! 
nor turn a corner without first peeping cautiously round, 
lest he should come unawares upon a British army ; and 
we are informed, that Stoffel Brinkerhofl^, who was consider- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 113 

ed by the old women almost as brave a man as the go- 
vernor himself, actually had two one-pound swivels mount- 
ed in his entry, one pointing out at the front door and ihe 
p,ther at the back. 

But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful 
occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful 
efficacy, w,as to assemble popular meetings. These brawl- 
ing, conyocatipps, I have already shown^ were extremely 
offensive to Peter Stuyvesant ; but as this was a moment of 
unusual agitation, and as the old governor was not present 
to repress them, they broke out with intolerable violence. 
Hither, therefore, the orators and politicians repaired, and 
there seemed to be a competition among them who should 
bawl; the loudest, and exceed the others in hyperbolical 
bursts of patriotism, and in resolutions to uphold and defend 
the government. In these sage and all powerful meetings' 
it was determined, nem. con, that they were the most en- 
lightened, the most dignified, the most formidable, and the 
most ancient community upon the face of the earth. Find- 
ing that this resolution was so universally and readily car- 
ried, another was immediately proposed, — Whether it were 
not possible and politic to exterminate Great Britain 1 Upon 
which sixty-nine members spoke most eloquently in the af- 
firmative, and only one arose to suggest some doubts, who, 
as a punishment for his treasonable presumption, was im- 
mediately seized by the mob, and tarred and feathered ; 
which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, 
he was afterwards considered as an outcast from society, 
and his opinion v/ent for nothing. The question, therefore, 
being unanimously carried in the affirmative, it was recom- 
mended to the grand council to pass it into a law, which 
was accordingly done ; by this measure the hearts of the 
peoplj3 at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they 
waxed,exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first 
parpxysrn of alarm having in some measure subsided, the 
old women having buri^jd all the money they could lay their 
hands on, and their husbands daily getting fuddled with 
what was left — the community began even to stand on the 
offensive. Songs were manufactured in low Dutch, and 
sung about the streets, wherein the English were most 
wofully beaten, and shown no quarter; and popular ad- 

10* 



114 BEAUTIES OF 

dresses were made, wherein it was proved to a certainty, 
that the fate of Old England depended upon the will of the 
New-Amsterdammers. 

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of 
Great Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assem- 
bled, and having purchased all the British manufactures 
they could find, they made thereof a huge bonfire ; and, in 
the patriotic glow of the moment, every man present, who 
had a hat or breeches of English workmanship, pulled it off, 
and threw it most undauntedly into the flames — to the irre- 
parable detriment, loss, and ruin of the English manufactur- 
ers. In commemoration of this great exploit, they erected 
a pole on the spot, with a device on the top intended to re- 
present the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, destroying 
Great Britain, under the similitude of an Eagle picking the 
little Island of Old England out of the globe ; but either 
through the unskilfulness of the sculptor, or his ill-timed 
waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a goose vainly 
striving to get hold of a dumpling. 



In which the Troubles of New- Amsterdam appear to thick- 
en — Showing the bravery^ in Time of Perils of a Peo- 
ple who defend themselves by Resolutions. 

Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in clamor- 
ous gibberings and caterwaulings, eyeing one another with 
hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and on the 
point of breaking forth into a general clapper-clawing, are 
suddenly put to scampering, rout, and confusion, by the 
startling appearance of a house-dog — so was the no less vo- 
ciferous council of New-Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and 
totally dispersed, by the sudden arrival of the enemy. — 
Every member made the best of his way home, waddling 
along as fast as his short legs could fag under their heavy 
burthen, and wheezing as he went with corpulency and ter- 
ror. When he arrived at his castle, he barricadoed the 
street door, and buried himself in the cider cellar, without 
daring to peep out, lest he should have his head carried off 
by a cannon ball. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 115 

The sovereign people all crowded into the market place, 
herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek for 
safety in each other's company, when the shepiierd and his 
dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the fold. 
Far from finding relief, however, they only increased each 
other's terrors. Each man looked ruefully in his neigh- 
bour's face, in search of encouragement, but only found, in 
its wo-begone lineaments, a confirmation of his own dismay. 
Not a word now was to be heard of conquering Great Bri- 
tain, not a whisper about the sovereign virtues of economy — 
while the old women heightened the general gloom, by cla- 
morously bewailing their fate, and incessantly calling for 
protection on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. 

Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion-hearted 
Peter ! — and how did they long for the comforting presence 
of Anthony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy uncertainty 
hung over the fate of these adventurous heroes. Day after 
day had elapsed since the alarming message from the gover- 
nor, v,Mthout bringing any further tidings of his safety. 
Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what had be- 
fallen him and his loyal squire. Had they not been de- 
voured alive by the cannibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod? 
Were they not put to the question by the great council of 
Amphyctions? Were they not smothered in onions by the 
terrible men of Pyquag? In the midst of this consternation 
and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty night-mare, sat 
brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New-Amster- 
dam, the ears of the multitude were suddenly startled by a 
stranp-e and distant sound- — it approached— it grew louder 
and louder — and now resounded at the city gate. The pub- 
lic could not be mistaken in the well knov/n sound. A 
shout of joy burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, co- 
vered with dust, and' followed by his faithful trumpeter, 
came galloping into the market-place. 

The first transports of the populace having subsided, they 
gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dismounted from 
his horse, overwhelming him with greetings and congratu- 
lations. In breathless accents he related to them the mar- 
vellous adventures through which the old governor and him- 
self had gone, in making their escape from the clutches of 
the terrible Amphyctions. But though the Stuyvesant manu- 



116 BEAUTIES OF 

script, with its customary minuteness where any thing touch- 
ing the great Peter is concerned, is very particular as to the 
incidents of this masterly retreat, yet the particular state of 
the public affairs will not allow me to indulge in a full reci- 
tal thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter Stuyve- 
sant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he could 
make good his escape with honour and dignity, certain of 
the ships sent out for the conquest of the Manhattoes touch- 
ed at the eastern ports, to obtain needful supplies, and to 
call on the grand council of the league, for its promised co- 
operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter perceiv- 
ing that a moment's delay wpre fatal, made a secret and 
precipitate decampment ; though much did it grieve his 
lofty soul, to be obliged to turn his back even upon a nation 
of foes. Many hair breadth 'scapes and divers perilous 
mishaps did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of 
trumpet, through the fair regions of the east. Already was 
the country in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they 
were obliged to take a large circuit in their flight, lurking 
along, through the woody mountains of the Devil's Back- 
bone ; from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day, 
like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squatters, con- 
sisting of three generations of a prolific family, who were 
already on their way to take possession of some corner of 
the New Netherlands. Nay, the faithful Anthony had grea,t 
difficulty at sundry times to prevent him, in the excess of 
his wrath, from descending down from the mountains, and 
falling sword in hand upon certain of the border-towns, who 
were marshalling forth their draggle-tailed militia. 

The first movements of the governor, on reaching his 
dwelling, was to mount the roof, from whence he contem- 
plated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This had 
already come to an anchor in the bay, and consisted of two 
stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent, in- 
forms us, " three hundred valiant redcoats." Having taken 
this survey, he sat himself down and wrote an epistle to the 
commander, demanding his reason of anchoring in the har- 
bour withf ut obtdining previous permission so to do. This 
letter was couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, 
though 1 have it from undoubted authority, that his teeth 
were clenched, and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 117 

visage all the while he wrote. Having despatched his let- 
ter, the grim Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a 
most war-betokening countenance, his hand thrust into his 
breeches pockets, whistling a low Dutch Psalm tune, which 
bore no small resemblance to the music of a northeast wind, 
when a storm is brewing. The very dogs, as they eyed 
him, skulked away in dismay — while all the old and ugly 
women of New-Amsterdam ran howling at his heels, im- 
ploring him to save them from murder, robbery, and pitiless 
ravishment. 

The reply of CoL Nicholas, who commanded the invad- 
ers, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter 
of the governor — declaring the right and title of his British 
majesty to the province ; where he Eiffirmed the ' Dutch to 
be mere interlopers ; and demanding that the town, forts, 
&c. should be forthwith rendered into his majesty's obe- 
dience and protection — promising at the same time, life, 
liberty, estate, and free trade, to every Dutch denizen, who 
should readily submit to his majesty's government. 

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some 
such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer, 
who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's soil, reads 
the loving letter of John Styles, that warns him of an ac- 
tion of ejectment. The old governor, however, was not to 
be taken by surprise, but thrusting the summons into his 
breeches pocket, he stalked three times across the room, 
took a pinch of snuff with great vehemence, and then loftily 
waving his hand, promised to send an answer next morn- 
ing. In the mean time he called a general council of war 
of his privy counsellors and burgomasters, not for the pur- 
pose of asking their advice, for that, as has been already 
shown, he valued not a rush ; but to make known to them 
his sovereign determination, and require their prompt adher- 
ence. 

Before, however, he convened his council, he .resolved 
upon three important points ; firsts never to give up the city, 
without a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly dero- 
gatory to the dignity of so renowned a city, to suffer itself 
to be captured and stripped, without receiving a ^qw kicks into 
the bargain. Secondly., that the majority of his grand coun- 
cil was composed of arrant poltrons, utterly destitute of 



118 BEAUTIES OF 

true bottom ; and, thirdly, that he would not therefbre stTf- 
fer them to see the summons of Col. Nicholas, lest the easy 
terms it held out might induce them to clamour for a sur- 
render. 

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight 
to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demolish- 
ed the whole British empire in their harangues ; peeping 
ruefully out^of their hiding "places, and then crawling cau- 
tiously forth, dodging through narrow lanes and alleys ; 
starting at every little dog that barked, as though it had 
been a discbarge of artillery—- mistaking lamp-posts for Bri- 
tish grenadiers, and in the excess of their panic, metamor- 
phosing pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling blunder- 
busses at their bosoms! Having, however, in despite of 
numerous perils and difficulties of the kind, arrived safe 
without the loss of a single man, at the hall of assembly , 
they took their seats and awaited in fearful silence the arri- 
val of the governor. In a few moments the wooden leg of 
the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and stout-hearted 
thumps upon the stair case. He entered the chamber ar- 
rayed in a full suit of regimentals, and carried his trusty 
toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. 
As the governor never equipped himself in this portentous 
manner, unless something of martial nature were working 
within his fearless pericranium, his council regarded him 
ruefully, as a very Janus, bearing fire and sword, in his iron 
countenance, and forgot to light their pipes ia breathless 
suspense. 

The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous ; in- 
deed, these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in hand 
in his composition ; and, unlike most great statesmen, whose 
victories are only confined to the bloodless field of argu- 
ment, he was always ready to enforce his hardy words by 
no less hardy deeds. His speeches were generally marked 
by a simplicity approaching to bluntness, and by truly cate- 
gorical decision. Addressing the grand council, he touched 
briefly upon the perils and hardships he had sustained in 
escaping from his crafty foes. He next reproached the 
council for wasting in idle debate and party feuds that time 
which should have been devoted to their country. He was 
particularly indignant at those brawlers, who, conscious of 



WASHINGTON IRVINff. 119 

indiviidual security, had disgraced the councils of the pro- 
vince, by impotent hectorings and scurrilous invectives, 
against a noble and powerful enemy — those cowardly curs 
who were incessant in their barkings and yelpings at the 
lion, while distant or asleep, but the moment he approached, 
were the first to skulk away. He now called on those who 
had been so valiant in their threats against Great Britain to 
stand forth and support their vaun tings by their actions — 
for it was deeds, not words, that bespoke the spirit of a na- 
tion. He proceeded to recall the golden days of former 
prosperity, which were only to be gained by manfully with- 
standing their enemies ; for the peace, he observed, which is 
effected by force of arms, is always more sure and durable 
than that which is patched up by temporary accommoda- 
tions. He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their martial 
fire, by reminding them of the time, when, before the frown- 
ing walls of fort Christina, he had led them on to victory. 
He strove likewise to awaken their confidence, by assuring 
them of the protection of St. Nicholas, who had hitherto 
maintained them in safety, amid all the savages of the wil- 
derness, the witches and squatters of the east, and the giants 
of Merry-land. Finally, he informed them of the insolent 
summons he had receivea, to surrender; but concluded by 
swearing to defend the province as long as heaven was on 
his side, and he had a wooden leg to stand upon. Which 
noble sentence he emphasized by a tremendous thwack with 
the broad side of his sword upon the table, that totally elec- 
trified his auditors. 

The privy counsellors, who had long been accustomed 
to the governor's way, and in fact had been brought into as 
perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Fre- 
derick, saw that there was no use in saying a word — so 
lighted their pipes and smoked away in silence like fat and 
discreet counsellors. But the burgomasters being less under 
the governor's control, considered thcnnselves as representa- 
tives of the sovereign people, and being moreover inflated 
with considerable importance and self-sufficiency, which they 
had acquired at those notable schools of wisdom and morali- 
ty, the popular meetings — were not so easily satisfied. Mus- 
tering up fresh spirit, when they found there was some 
chance of escaping from their present jeopardy, without the 



120 BEAUTIES OF 

disagreeable alternative of fighting, they requested a copy 
of the summons to surrender, that they might show it to a 
general meeting of the people. 

So insolent and mutinous a request would have been 
enough to have aroused the gorge of the tranquil Van Twil- 
ler himself — what then must have been its effects upon the 
great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutchman, a govern- 
or, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but withal 
a man of the most stomachful and gunpowder disposition. 
He burst forth into a blaze of noble indignation, to which 
the famous rage of Achilles was a mere pouting fit — swore 
not a mother's son of them should see a syllable of it — that 
they deserved, every one of them, to be hanged, drawn, and 
quartered, for tr;iitorously daring to question the infallibility 
of government ; that as to their advice and concurrence, he 
did not care a whiff of tobacco for either ; that he had long 
been harassed and thwarted by their cowardly councils ; 
but that they might thenceforth go home, and go to bed like 
old women, for he was determined to defend the colony him- 
self, without the assistance of them or their adherents ! So 
saying, he tucked his sword under his arm, cocked his hat 
upon his head, and girding up his loins, stumped indignantly 
out of the council-chamber, every body making room for 
him as he passed. 

No sooner had he gone than the busy burgomasters called 
a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where they ap- 
pointed as chairman one Dofue Roorback, a mighty ginger- 
bread-baker in the land, and formerly of the cabinet of Wil- 
liam the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence 
by the populace, who considered him a man of dark know- 
ledge, seeing he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes 
with the mysterious hieroglyphics of the cock and breeches, 
and such like magical devices. 

This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill 
will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence of hav- 
ing been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time 
of his taking the reins of government, addressed the greasy 
multitude in what is called a patriotic speech ; in which he 
informed them of the courteous summons to surrender — of 
the governor's refusal to comply therewith — of his denying 
the public a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 

contained conditions highly to the honour and advantage of 
the province. 

He then proceeded to speak of liis excellency in high 
sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of his 
station, comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those other 
great men of yore, who are generally quoted by popular 
orators on similar occasions. Assuring the people that the 
history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage to 
equal the present for atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, and blood- 
thirstiness ,* that it would be recorded in letters of fire on the 
blood-stained tablet of history ! that ages would roll back 
with sudden horror, when they came to view it ! That the 
womb of time — -(by the way your orators and writers take 
strange liberties with the womb of time, though some would 
fain have us believe that time is an old gentleman) — that 
the womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors, 
would never produce a parallel enormity ! — with a variety 
of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which 
I cannot enumerate. Neither indeed need I, for they were 
exactly the same that are used in all popular harangues and 
patriotic orations at the present day, and may be classed in 
rhetoric under the general title of Rigmarole. 

The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, 
the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which 
produced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but like- 
wise a most resolute memorial, addressed to the governor, 
remonstrating at his conduct; which was no sooner handed 
to him, than he handed it into the fire; and thus deprived 
posterity of an invaluable document, that might have served 
as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the 
present day ; in their sage intermeddlings with politics. 



THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 

During my residence in the country, I used frequently to 
attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles its 
mouldering monuments, its dark oaken pannelling, all re- 
verend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it 
for the haunt of solemn meditation. A Sunday, too, in the 

11 



123 BEAUTIES OP 

country, is so holy in its repose ; such a pensive quiet reigns 
over the face of nature, that every restless passion is charm- 
ed down, and we feel all the natural religion of the soul 
gently springing up within us. 

" Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so "bright, 
The bindal of the eaith and sky." 

I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man ; but 
there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid 
the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience no where 
else ; and if not a more religious, I think I am a better man 
on Sunday, than on any other day of the seven. 

But in this church I felt myself continually thrown back 
upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the poor worms 
around me. Tlie only being that seemed thoroughly to feel 
the humble and prostrate piety of a true Christian, was a 
poor decerpid old woman, bending under the weight of years 
and infirmities. She bore the traces of something better 
than abject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride were 
visible in her appearance. Her dress, though humble in 
the extreme, was scrupulously clean. Some trivial respect, 
too, had been awarded her, for she did not take her seat 
among the village poor, but sat alone on the steps of the 
altar. She seemed to have survived all love, all friendship, 
all society ; and to have nothing left her but the hopes of 
heaven. When I saw her feebly rising and bending her 
aged form in prayer- — habitually conning her prayer-book, 
which her palsied hand and failing eyes would not permit 
her to read, but which she evidently knew by heart — I felt 
persuaded that the faltering voice of that poor woman 
arose to heaven far before the responses of the clerk, the 
swell of the organ, or the chanting of the choir. 

I am fond of loitering about country churches, and this 
was so delightfully situated, that it frequently attracted me. 
It stood on a knoll, round which a small stream made a 
beautiful bend, and then wound its way through a long reach 
of soft meadow scenery. The church was surrounded by 
yew trees which seemed almost coeval with itself. Its tall 
Gothic spire shot up lightly from among them, with rooks 
and crows generally wheeling about it. I was seated there 
one still sunny morning, watching two labourers who were 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 123 

digging a grave. They had chosen one of the most re- 
mote and neglected corners of the church -yard ; where, 
from the number of nameless graves around, it would ap- 
pear that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the 
earth. I was told that the new-made grave was for the 
only son of a poor widow. While I was meditating on the 
distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus down into 
the very dust, the toll of the bell announced the approach of 
the funeral. They were the obsequies of poverty, with 
which pride had nothing to do. A coffin of the plainest 
materials, without pall or other covering, was borne by 
some of the villagers. The sexton walked before with an 
air of cold indifference. There were no mock mourners in 
the trappings of affected wo ; but there was one real mour- 
ner who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was the aged 
mother of the deceased — the poor old woman whom I had 
seen seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported by 
a humble friend, who was endeavouring to comfort her. A 
few of the neighbouring poor had joined the train, and some 
children of the village were running hand in hand, now 
shouting with unthinking mirth, and now pausing to gaze 
with childish curiosity, on the grief of the mourner. 

As the funeral train approached the grave, the parson is- 
sued from the church porch, arrayed in the surplice, with 
prayer-book in hand, and attended by the clerk. The ser- 
vice, however, was a mere act of charity. The deceased 
had been destitute, and the survivor was pennyless. It 
was shuffled through, therefore, in form, but coldly and un- 
feelingly. The well-fed priest moved but a few steps from 
the church door ; his voice could scarcely be heard at the 
grave ; and never did I hear the funeral service, that sub- 
lime and touching ceremony, turned into such a frigid mum- 
mery of words. 

I "approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the 
ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of the de- 
ceased — " George Sommers, aged 26 years." The poor 
mother had been assisted to kneel down at the head of it. 
Her withered hands were clasped, as if in prayer, but I could 
perceive, by a feeble rocking of the body, and a convulsive 
motion of her lips, that she was gazing on the last relics of 
her son, with the yearnings of a mother's heart. 



124 BEAUTIES or 

Preparations were made to deposite the coffin into the 
earth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so harsh- 
ly on the feelings of grief and afTeclion ; directions given in 
the cold tones pf business : the striking of spades into sand 
and gravel; which, at the grave of those we love^ is, of all 
sounds, the most withering. The bustle around seemed ta 
awaken the mother from a wretched reverie. She raised her 
glazed eyes, and looked about with a faint wildness- As the ■ 
men, approached with cords to lower the coffin into the 
grave, she wrung her hands and broke into an agony of 
grief. The poor woman who attended her took her by the 
arm, endeavouring to raise her from the earth, and to whis- 
per something like consolation — " Nay, now — nay, now — 
don't take it so sorely to heart." She could only shake her 
head and wring her hands, as one not to be comforted. 

As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking of 
the cords seemed to agonize her ; but when, on some acci- 
dental obstruction, there was a jostling of the coffin, all the 
tenderness of the motlier burst forth ; as if any harm could 
come to him who was far beyond the reach of worldly suf- 
fering. 

I could see no more — my heart swe;lled into my throat — 
my eyes filled with tears — I felt as if 1 were acting a barba- 
rous part in standing by and gazing idly on this scene of 
maternal anguish. J vv'andered to another part of the church- 
yard, where I remained until the funeral train had dis- 
persed. 

When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting the 
grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that was dear 
to her on earth, and returning to silence and destitution, my 
heart ached for her. What, thought I are the distresses of 
the rich ! they have friends to sooth— pleasures to beguile 
— a world to divert and dissipate their griefs. What are 
the sorrows of the young ! Their growing minds soon close 
above the wound — their elastic spirits sextn rise above the 
pressure — their green and ductile affections soon twine 
round new objects. But the sorrows oLthe poor, who have 
no outward appliances to sooth — the sorrows of the aged, 
with whom life at best is but a wintry day, and who can 
look for no aflergrowth of joy— the sorrows of a widow^ 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 

aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over an only son, the last 
solace of her years ,* these are indeed sorrows which make 
us feel the impotency of consolation. 

It was some time before I left the church yard. On my 
way homeward I met with the woman who had acted as 
comforter: she was just returning from accompanying the 
mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some 
particulars connected with the affecting scene I had wit- 
nessed. 

The parents of the deceased had resided in the village 
from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest 
cottages, and by various rural occupations, and the assist- 
ance of a small garden, had supported themselves credita- 
bly and comfortably, and led a happy and a blameless life. 
They had only one son, who had grown up to be the staff 
and pride of their age. — " Oh, Sir!" said the good woman, 
" he was such a comely lad, so sweet-tempered, so kind to 
every one around him, so dutiful to his parents ! It did 
one's heart good, to see him of a Sunday, dressed out in his 
best, so tall, so straight, so cheery, supporting his old mo- 
ther to church — for she was always fonder of leaning on 
George's arm, than on her good man's ; and, poor soul, she 
might well be proud of him, for a finer lad there was not in 
the country round." 

Unfortunately the son was tempted, during a year of 
scarcity and agricultural hardship to enter into the service 
of one of the small craft that plied on a neighbouring river. 
He had not been long in this employ when he was entrap- 
ped by a press-gang and carried off to sea. His parents 
received tidings of his seizure, but beyond that they could 
learn nothing. It was the loss of their main prop. The 
father, who was already intirm, grew heartless and melan- 
choly, and sunk into his grave. The widow, left lonely, in 
her age and feebleness, could no longer support herself, and 
came upon the parish. Still there was a kind of feeling 
toward her throughout the village, and a certain respect, as 
being one of the oldest inhabitants. As no one applied for 
the cottage in which she had passed so many happy days, 
she was permitted to remain in it, where she lived solitary 
and almost helpless. The few wants of nature were chiefly 

11* 



126 BEAUTIES OF 

suppliedj from the scanty productions of her little garden, 
which the neighbours would now and then cultivate for her. 
It was but a few days before the time at which these cir- 
cumstances were told me, that she was gathering some ve- 
getables for a repast, when she heard the cottage door which 
faced the garden suddenly open. A stranger came out, and 
seemed to be looking eagerly and wildly around. He was 
dressed in seamen's clothes, and was emaciated and ghastly 
pale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness and hard- 
ships. He saw her, and hastened towards her, but his steps 
were faint and faltering ; he sank on his knees before her, 
and sobbed like a child. The poor woman gazed upon him 
with a vacant and wandering eye — " Oh my dear, dear 
mother, don't you know your son 1 your poor boy George?" 
It was indeed the wreck of her once noble lad ; who, shat- 
tered by wounds, by sickness and foreign imprisonment, 
had, at length, dragged his wasted limbs homeward, to re- 
pose among the scenes of his childhood. 

I will not attempt to detail the particulars of such a meet- 
ing, were joy and sorrow were so completely blended : still 
he was alive ! he was come home ! he might yet live to 
comfort and cherish her old age! Nature, however, was 
exhausted in him ; and if any thing had been wanting to 
finish the work of fate, the desolation of his native cottage 
would have been sufficient. He stretched himself on the 
pallet on which his widowed mother had passed many a 
sleepless night, and never rose from it again. 

The villagers when they heard that George Sommers had 
returned, crowded to see him, offering every comfort and 
assistance that their humble means afforded. He was too 
weak, however, to talk — he could only look his thanks. 
His mother was his constant attendant; and he seemed un- 
willing to be helped by any other hand. 

There is something in sickness, that breaks down the 
pride of manhood ; that softens the heart, and brings it back 
to the feelings of infancy. Who that has languished, even 
in advanced life, in sickness and despondency ; who that 
has pined on a weary bed in the neglect and loneliness of a 
foreign land ; but has thought on the mother " that looked 
on his childhood," that smoothed his pillow and administer- 
ed to his helplessness ? Oh 1 there is an enduring tender- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 127 

ness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all 
other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by 
selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened byworth- 
lessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every 
comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every plea- 
sure to his enjoyment ; she will glory in his fame, and ex- 
ult in his prosperity : — and, if misfortune overtake him, he 
will be the dearer to her from his misfortunes ; and if dis- 
grace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish 
him in spite of his disgrace ; and if all the world beside cast 
him off, she will be all the world to him. 

Poor George Sommers had known what it was to be in 
sickness and none to sooth — lonely and in prison, and none 
to visit him. He could not endure his mother from his 
sight ; if she moved away, his eye would follow her. She 
would sit for hours by his bed, watching him as he slept. 
Sometimes he would start from a feverish dream, and look 
anxiously up until he saw her bending over him ; when he 
would take her hand, lay it on his bosom, and fall asleep 
with the tranquillity of a child. In this way he died. 

My first impulse on hearing this hum'ble tale of affliction, 
was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and administer pe- 
cuniary assistance, and, if possible, comfort. I found, how- 
ever, on inquiry, that the good feelings of the villagers had 
prompted them to do every thing "that the case admitted ; 
and as the poor know best how to console each other's sor- 
rows, 1 did not venture to intrude. 

The next Sunday I was at the village church ; when, to 
my surprise, I saw the poor old woman tottering down the 
aisle to her ;<ccustomed seat on the steps of the altar. 

She had made an effort to put on something like mourn- 
ing for her son ; and nothing could be more touching than 
this struggle between pious affection and utter poverty : a 
black ribbon or so — a faded black handkercliief, and one or 
two more such humble attempts to express by outward signs 
that grief that passes show. When I looked round upon 
the storied monuments ; the stately hatchments ; the cold 
;' marble pomp, with Vv'hich grandeur mourned magnificently 
over departed pride, and turned to this poor widow, bowed 
down by age and sorrow at the altar of her God, and offer- 
ing up the prayers and praises of a pious though a broken 



1S8 ' BEAUTIES OF 

heart, I felt that this living monument of real grief was 
worth them all. 

I related her story to some of the wealthy members of 
the congregation, and they were moved by it. They exert- 
ed themselves to render her situation more comfortable, and 
to lighten her afflictions. It was, however, but smoothing a 
few steps to the grave. In the course of a Sunday or two 
after she was missed from her usual seat at church, and be- 
fore 1 left the neighbourhood I heard, with a feeling of satis- 
faction, that she had quietly breathed her last, and had gone 
to rejoin those she loved, in that world w^here sorrow is 
never known, and friends are never parted. 



STORM AT SEA. 

The storm increased with the night. The sea was lash- 
ed into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen 
sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. Deep called 
unto deep. At times the black volume of clouds over head 
seemed rent asunder by flashes of lightning that quivered 
along the foaming billows, and made the succeeding dark- 
ness doubly terrible. The thunders bellowed over the wild 
waste of waters, and were echoed and prolonged by the 
mountain waves. As I saw the ship staggering and plung« 
ing among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that 
she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her 
yards would dip in the water; her bow was almost buried 
beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appear- 
ed ready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a dexterouR 
movement of the helm preserved her from the shock. 

AVheri I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed 
me. The whistling of the wind through the rigging sound- 
ed like funeral waitings. The creaking of the masts, the 
straining and groaning of bulk heads, as the ship laboured 
in the weltering sea, were frightful. As I heard the waves 
rushing along the side of the ship, and roaring in my very 
ear, it seemed as if Death were raging round this floating 
prison, seeking for his prey ; the mere starting of a nail, the 
yawning of a seam might give him entrance. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 12^ 



JOHN BULL. 



Theke is no species of humour in which the EngHsh 
more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and 
giving hidicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this way 
they have whimsically designated, not merely individuals, 
but nations ; and in their fondness for pushing a joke, they 
have not spared even themselves. One would think that, 
in personifying itself, a nation would be apt to picture some- 
thmg g:, nd, heroic, and imposing; but it is characteristic 
of the peculiar humour of the English, and of their love for 
what is blunt, comic and familiar, that they have embodied 
their national oddities in the figure of a sturdy corpulent old 
fellow, with a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather 
breeches, and stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken 
a singular delight in exhibiting their most private foibles in 
a laughable point of view ; and have been so successful in 
their delineations, that there is scarcely a being in actual 
existence more absolutely present to the public mind than 
that eccentric personage. John Bull. 

Perhaps the continual contemplation of the character thus 
drawn of them, has contributed to fix it upon the nation ; 
and thus to give reality to what at first may have been 
painted in a great measure from imagination. Men are apt 
to acquire peculiarities that are continually ascribed to them. 
The common orders of English seem wonderfully captivat- 
ed with the heau ideal which they have formed of John 
Bull, and endeavour to act up to the broad caricature that is 
perpetually before their eyes. Unluckily, they sometimes 
make their boasted Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice 
or grossness ; and this I have especially noticed ajiiong 
those truly home-bred and genuine sons of the soil who 
have never migrated be3^ond the sound of Bow-bells. If 
one of these should be a little uncouth in speech, and apt 
to utter impertinent truths, he confesses that he is a real 
John Bull, and always speaks his mind. If he now and 
then flies into an unreasonable burst of passion about trifles, 
he observes that John Bull is a choleric old blade, but then 
his passion is over in a moment, and he bears no malice. 
If he betrays a coarseness of taste, and an insensibility to 



130 BEAUTIES OF 

foreign refinements, he thanks heaven for his ignorance — he 
is a plain John Bull, and has no reb'sh for frippery and nick- 
nacks, his ve-'y proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to 
pay extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the plea 
of muo'icence — for John is always more generous than 
wise. 

Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will contrive to 
argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly convict him- 
self of being the honestest fellow in existence. 

However little, therefore, the character may have suited 
in the first insiance, it has gradually adapted its(:«f to the 
nation, or rather they have adapted themselves lo each other; 
and a stranger who wishes to study English peculiarities, 
may gatlier much valuable information from the innumera- 
ble portraits of John Bull, as exhibited in the windows of 
the caricature shops. Still, however, he is one of those 
fertile humorists, that are continually throwing out new 
portraits, and preseniing different aspects from different points 
of view ; and, ouen as he has been described, I cannot resist 
the temptation to give a slight sketch of him, such as he has 
"met my eye. 

John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain downright mat- 
ter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about him than 
rich prose. Thee is little of romance in his nature, but a 
vast deal of strong natural feeling. He excels in hrmour 
more than in wit; is jolly rather than gay; melancholy ra- 
ther than morose ; can easily be moved to a sudden tear, or 
surprised to a broad laugh ; but he loathes sentiment, and 
has no turn for light pleasantry. He is a boon companion, 
if you allow him to have his humour, and to talk about him- 
self; and he will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life 
and purse, however soundly he may be cudgelled. 

In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propensity 
to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded personage, 
who thinks not merely for himself and family, but for all 
the country round, and is most generously disposed to be 
every body's champion. He is continually volunteering his 
services to settle his neighbour's affairs, and takes it in great 
dudgeon if they engage in any matter of consequence with- 
out asking his advice; though he seldom engages in any 
friendly office of the kind without finishing by getting into 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 

a squabble with all parties, and then railing bitterly at their 
ingratitude. He unluckily took lessons in his youth in the 
noble science of defence, and having accomplished himself 
in the use of his limbs and his weapons, and become a per- 
fect master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a trouble- 
some life of it ever since. He cannot hear of a quarrel 
between the most distant of his neighbours, but he begins 
incontinently to fumble with the head of his cudgel, and to 
consider whether his interest or honour does not require that 
he should meddle in the broil. Indeed he has extended his 
relations of pride and policy so completely over the whole 
country, that no event can lake place, without infringing 
some of his finely-spun rights and dignitie-j. Couched in 
his little domain, with these filaments stretching forth in 
every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old 
spider, who has woven his web over a whole chamber, so 
that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze blow, without startling 
his repose, and causing him to sally forth wrathfully from 
his den. 

Though really a good-hearted, good-tempered old fellow 
at bottom, yet he is singularly fond of being in the midst of 
contention. It is one of his peculiarities, however, that he 
only relishes the beginning of an affray; he always goes 
into a fight with alacrity, but he comes out of it grumbling, 
even when victorious ; and though no one fights with more 
obstinacy to carry a contested point, yet, when the battle is 
over, and he comes to the reconciliation, he is so much taken 
up with the mere shaking of hands, that he is apt to let his 
antagonist pocket all that they have been quarreling about. 
It is not, therefore, fighting that he ought to be so much on 
his guard against, as making friends. It is difficult to cudgel 
him out of a tarthing ; but put him in a good humour, and 
you may bargain him out of all the money in his pocket. 
He is like one of his own ships, which will weather the 
roughest storm uninjured, but roll its masts overboard in the 
succeeding calm. 

He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad; of 
pulling out a long purse ; flinging his money bravely about 
at boxing-matches, horse-races, and cock-fights, and carry- 
ing a high head among " gentlemen of the fancy;" but im- 
mediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will be 



132 BEAUTIES OF 

taken with violent qualms of economy; stop short at tho 
most trivial expenditure; talk desperately of being ruined, 
and brought upon the parish ; and in such moods, he will 
not pay the smallest tradesman's bill without violent alterca- 
tion, lie is, in fact, the most punctual and discontented 
paymaster in the world ; drawing his coin out of his breeches' 
pocket with infinite reluctance ; paying to the uttermost 
farthing, but accompanying every guinea with a growl. 

With all this talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful 
provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is of 
a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he 
may afibrd to be extravagant ; for he will begrudge himself 
a beefsteak and a pint of port one day, that he may roast an 
ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neigh- 
bours on the next. 

His domestic establishment is enormously expensive ; not 
so much from any great outward parade, as from the great 
consumption of solid beef and pudding ; the vast number of 
followers he feeds and clothes ; and his singular disposition 
to pay hugely for small services. He is a most kind and 
indulgent master, and, provided his servants humour his 
peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and do 
not peculate grossly on him before his face, they may manage 
him to perfection. Every thing that lives on him seems to 
thrive and grow fat. His house servants are well paid, and 
pampered, and have little to do. His horses are sleek and 
lazy, and prance slowly before his state carriage; and his 
house dogs sleep quietly before his door, and will hardly 
bark at a house-breaker. 

His family mansion is an old castellated manor-house, 
grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weather- 
beaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular plan, 
but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in various tastes 
and ages. The centre bears evident traces of Saxon archi- 
tecture, and is as solid as ponderous stone and old English 
oak can make it. Like all the relics of that style, it is full 
of obscure passages, intricate mazes, and dusky chambers ; 
and though these have been partially lighted up in modern 
days, yet there are many places where you must still grope 
in the dark. Additions have been made to the original edi- 
fice from time to time, and great alterations have taken place ; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 133 

towers and battlements have been erected during the wars 
and tumults ; wings bnilt in tim63s of peace ; and out-houses, 
lodges, and offices, run up according to the whim or conve- 
nience of different generations : until it has become one of 
the most spacious, rambling tenements imaginable. An en- 
tire wing is taken up with a family chapel ; a reverend pile 
that must once have been exceedingly sumptuous, and, in- 
deed, in spite of having been altered and simplified at va- 
rious periods, has still a look of solemn religious pomp. 
Its walls within are storied with the monuments of John's 
ancestors ; and it is snugly fitted up with soft cushions and 
well-lined chairs, where such of his family as are inclined 
to church services, may doze comfortably in the discharge 
of their duties. - 

To keep up this chapel has cost John much money; but 
he is staunch in his religion, and piqued in his zeal, from the 
circumstance that many dissenting chapels have been erected 
in his vicinity, and several of his neighbours, with whom he 
has had quarrels, are strong papists. 

To do the duties of the chapel, he maintains, at a large 
expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a most 
learned and decorous personage, and a truly well-bred Chris- 
tian, who always backs the old gentleman in his opinions, 
winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes, rebukes the chil- 
dren when refractory, and is of great use in exhorting the 
tenants to read their bibles, say their prayers, and, above 
all, to pay their rents punctually, and without grumbling. 

The family apartments are in a very antiquated taste, 
somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the 
solemn magnificence of former times ; fitted up with rich 
though faded tapestry, unv/ieldy furniture, and loads of 
massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, ample 
kitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous banqueting halls 
— all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of yore, of 
which the modern festivity at the manor-house is but a sha- 
dow. There are, however, complete suites of rooms appa- 
rently deserted and time worn ; and towers and turrets that 
are tottering to decay; so that in high winds there is a dan- 
ger of their tumbling about the ears of the household. 

John has frequently been advised to have the old edifice 
thoroughly overhauled ; and to have some of the useless 

12 



134 BBAtTTlBS OF 

parts pulled down, and the others strengthened with their 
materials ; but the old gentleman always grows testy on this 
subject. He swears the house is an excellent house — that 
it is tight and weather proof, and not to be shaken by tem- 
pests — that it has stood for several hundred years, and, there- 
fore, is not likely to tumble down now — that as to its being 
inconvenient, his family is accustomed to the inconveniences, 
and would not be comfortable without them — that as to its 
unwieldly size and irregular construction, these result from 
its being the growth of centuries, and being improved by 
the wisdom of every generation — that an old family like his, 
requires a large house to dwell in ; new upstart families may 
live in modern cottages and snug boxes, but an old English 
family should inhabit an old English manor-house. If you 
point out any part of the building as superfluous, he insists 
that it is material to the strength or decoration of the rest, 
and the harmony of the whole ; and swears that the parts 
are so built into each other, that, if you pull down one, you 
run the risk of having the whole about your ears. 

The secret of the matter is, that John has a great disposi- 
tion to protect and patronize. He thinks it indispensable to 
the dignity of an ancient and honourable family, to be boun- 
teous in its appointments, and to be eaten up by dependants; 
and so, partly from pride, and partly from kind-heartedness, 
he makes it a rule always to give shelter and maintainance 
to his superannuated servants. 

The consequence is, that, like many other venerable fa- 
mily establishments, his manor is encumbered by old re- 
tainers whom he cannot turn off, and an old style which he 
cannot lay down. His mansion is like a great hospital of 
invalids, and, with all its magnitude, is not a whit too large 
for its inhabitants. Not a nook or a corner but is of use in 
housing some useless personage. Groups of veteran beef- 
eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired heroes of the buttery 
and the larder, are seen lolling about its walls, crawling 
over its lawns, dozing under its trees, or sunning themselves 
upon the benches at its doors. Every office and out-house 
is garrisoned by these supernumeraries and their families ; 
for they are amazingly prolific, and when they die off, are 
sure to leave John a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided 
for. A mattock cannot be struck against the most moul- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 

dering tumble-down tower, but out pops, from some cranny 
or loop-hole, the grey pate of some superannuated hanger- 
on, who has lived at John's expense all his life, and makes 
the most grievous outcry, at their pulling down the roof from 
over the head of a worn-out servant of the family. This is 
an appeal that John's honest heart never can withstand ; so 
that a man, who has faithfully eaten his beef and pudding 
all his life, is sure to be rewarded with a pipe and tankard 
in his old days. 

A great part of his park, also, is turned into paddocks 
where his broken-down chargers are turned loose to graze 
undisturbed for the remainder of their existence — a worthy 
example of grateful recollection, which, if some of his neigh- 
bours were to imitate, would not be to their discredit. In- 
deed, it is one of his greatest pleasures to point out these old 
steeds to his visiters, to dwell on their good qualities, extol 
their past services, and boast with some little vain-glory, of 
the perilous adventures and hardy exploits, through which 
they have carried him. 

He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for family 
usages, and family incumbrances, to a whimsical extent. 
His manor is infested by gangs of gipsies ; yet he will not 
suffer them to be driven off, because they have infested the 
place time out of mind, and been regular poachers upon 
every generation of the family. He will scarcely permit a 
dry branch to be lopped from the great trees that surround 
the house, lest it should molest the rooks, that have bred 
there for centuries. Owls have taken possession of the 
dovecote ; but they are hereditary owls, and must not be dis- 
turbed. Swallows have nearly choked up every chimney 
with their nests ; martins build in every frieze and cornice ; 
crows flutter about the towers, and perch on every weather- 
cock ; and old grey-headed rats may be seen in every quar- 
ter of the house, running in and out of their holes undaunt- 
edly, in broad daylight. In short, John has such a reverence 
for every thing that has been long in the family, that he vv^ill 
not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are 
good old family abuses. 

All these whims and habits have concurred wofully to 
drain the old gentleman's purse ; and as he prides himself 
on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to maintain 



136 BEAUTIES OF 

his credit in the neighbourhood, they have caused him great 
perplexity in meeting his engagements. This, too, has been 
increased, b.y the altercations and heart-burnings which are 
continually taking place in his family. Flis children have 
been brought up to different callings, and are of different 
ways of thinking; and as they have always been allowed to 
speak their mind freely, they do not fail to exercise the privi- 
lege most clamorously in the present posture of his affairs. 
Some stand up for the honour of the race, and are clear that 
the old establishment should be kept up in all its state, what- 
ever may be the cost ; others, who are more prudent and 
considerate, entreat the old gentleman to retrench his ex- 
penses, and to put his whole system of housekeeping on a 
more moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times, seemed 
inclined to listen to their opinions, but their wholesome 
advice has been compleily defeated by the obstreperous con- 
duct of one of his sons. This is a noisy rattle-pated fellow, 
of rather low habits, who neglects his business to frequent 
ale-houses — is the orator of the village clubs, and a complete 
oracle, among the poorest of his father's tenants. No sooner 
does he hear any of his brothers mention reform or retrench- 
ment, than up he jumps, lakes the words out of their mouths, 
and roars out for an overturn. When his tongue is once 
going, nothing can stop it. He rants about the room ; hec- 
tors the old man about his spendthrift practices ; ridicules 
his tastes and pursuits ; insists that he shall turn the old 
servants out of doors ; give the broken down horses to the 
hounds; send the fat chaplain packing, and take a field 
preacher in his place — nay, that the whole family mansion 
shall be levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick 
and mortar built in its place. He rails at every social en- 
tertainment and family festivity, and skulks away growling 
to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to the door. 
Though constantly complaining of the emptiness of his 
purse, yet he scruples not to spend all his pocket money in 
these tavern convocations, and even runs up scores, for the 
liquor over v/hich he preaches about his father's extrava- 
gance. 

It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting 
agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He has 
become so irrit.ible, from, repeated crossings, that the mere 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 

mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for a brawl 
between him and the tavern oracle. As the latter is too 
sturdy and refractory for paternal discipline, having grown 
out of all fear of the cudgel, they have frequent scenes of 
wordy warfare, which at times run so high, that John is 
fain to call in the aid of his son Tom, an officer who has 
served abroad, but is at present living at home, on half-pay. 
This last is sure to stand by the old gentleman, right or 
wrong ; likes nothing so much as a racketing, roystering 
life ; and is ready, at a wink or nod, to out sabre, and flour- 
ish it over the orator's head, if he dares to array himself 
against paternal authority. 

These family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad, and 
are rare food for scandal in John's neighbourhood. People 
begin to look wise, and shake their heads, whenever his af- 
fairs are mentioned. They all " hope that matters are not 
so bad with him as represented; but when a man's own 
children begin to rail at his extavagance, things must be 
badly managed. They understand he is mortgaged over 
head and ears, and is continually dabbling with money lend- 
ers. He is certainly an open-handed old gentleman, but 
they fear he has lived too fast; indeed, they never knew any 
good come of this fondness for hunting, racing, revelling, 
and prize-fighting. In short, Mr. Bull's estate is a very 
fine one, and has been in the family a long while ; but for 
all that, they have known many finer estates come to the 
hammer." 

What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecuniary 
embarrassments and domestic feuds have had on the poor 
man himself. Instead of that jolly round corporation, and 
snug rosy face, which he used to present, he has of late be- 
come as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost-bitten apple. His 
scarlet gold-laced waistcoat, which bellied out so bravely in 
those prosperous days when he sailed before the wind, now 
hangs loosely about him like a mainsail in a calm. His 
leather breeches are all in folds and wrinkles, and appa- 
rently have much ado to hold up the boots that yawn on 
both sides of his once sturdy legs. 

Instead of strutting about as formerly, with his three- 
cornered hat on one side; flourishing his cudgel, and bring- 
ing it down every moment with a hearty thump upon the 

12* 



138 BEAUTIES OF 

ground ; looking every one sturdily in the face, and trolling 
out a stave of a catch or a drinking song ; he now goes 
about whistling thoughtfully to himself, with his head droop- 
ino- down, his cudgel tucked under his arm, and his hands 
thrust to the bottom of his breeches pockets, which are evi- 
dently empty. 

Such is the plight of honest John Bull at present ; yet for 
all this the old fellow's spirit is as tall and as gallant as 
ever. If you drop the least expression of sympathy or con- 
cern, he takes fire in an instant ; sv/ears that he is the 
richest, and stoutest fellow in the country ; talks of laying 
out large sums. to adorn his house or to buy another estate ; 
and, with a valiant swagger and grasping of his cudgel, 

ion^s exceedino;lv to have another bout at quarterstafF. 

• • • • 11 

Though there may be something rather whimsical m all 

this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John's situation with- 
out strong feelings of interest. With all his odd hurraours 
and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterHng-hearted old blade. 
He may not be so' wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks 
himself, but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours 
represent him. His virtues are all his own; all plain, home- 
bred and unaffected. His very faults smack of the raciness 
of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his 
generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credu- 
lity of his open faith ; his vanity of his pride ; and his blunt- 
ness of his sincerity. They are all redundancies of a rich 
and liberal character. He is like his own oak ; rough with- 
out, but sound and solid within ; whose bark abounds with 
excrescences in proportion to the grov/th and grandeur of 
the timber ; and whose branches make a fearful groaning 
and murmuring in the least storm, from their very magni- 
tude and luxuriance. There is something, too, in the ap- 
pearance of his old tamily mansion, that is extremely poeti- 
cal and picturesque ; and, as long as it can be rendered 
comfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to see it med- 
dled with during the present conflict of tastes and opinions. 
Some of his advisers are no doubt good architects that 
might be of service ; but many I fear are mere levellers, 
who, when they had once got to work with their mattocks 
on the venerable edifice, would never stop until they had 
brought it to the ground, and perhaps buried themselves 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 

among the ruins. All that I wish is, that John's present 
troubles may teach him more prudence in future. That he 
may cease to distress his mind about other people's affairs ; 
that he may give up the fruitless attempt to promote the 
good of his neighbours, and the peace and happiness of the 
world, by dipt of the cudgel ; that he may remain quietly at 
home ; gradually get his house into repair ; cultivate his rich 
estate according to his fancy ; husband his income — if he 
thinks proper; bring his unruly children into order — if he 
can ; renew the jovial scenes of ancient prosperity ; and 
long enjoy, on his paternal lands, a green, an honourable, 
and a merry old age. 



CONSEQUENCE. 

The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder rising 
within him. He had a little of the German pride of territo- 
ry in his composition, and almost looked upon himself as 
owner of a principality. He began to complain of the fa- 
tigue of business ; and was fond of riding out " to look at 
his estate." His little expeditions to his lands were attended 
with a bustle and parade that created a sensation throughout 
the neighbourhood. His wall-eyed horse stood stamping, 
and whiskino; off the flies, for a full hour before the house. 
Then the doctor's saddle-bags would be brought out and ad- 
justed ; then, after a little while, his cloak would be rolled 
up and strapped to the saddle ; then his umbrella would be 
buckled to the cloak ; while, in the meantime, a group of 
ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would gather be- 
fore the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, in a 
pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, and a cock- 
ed hat flapped dov/n in front. As he was a short, fat man, 
he took some time to mount into the saddle ; and when there, 
he took some time to have the saddle and stirrups properly 
adjusted, enjoying the wonder and admiration of the urchin 
crowd. Even after he had set off, he would pause in the 
middle of the street, or trot back two or three times to give 
some parting orders which v/ere answered by the house- 
keeper from the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black 



140 BEAUTIES OF 

cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret 
window ; and there were generally some last words bawled 
after him, just as he was turning the corner. 

The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this pomp 
and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his last ; the 
barber would thrust out his frizzed head, with a comb stick- 
ing in it ; a knot would collect at the grocer's door, and the 
word would be buzzed from one end of the street to the 
other, "The doctor's riding out to his country seat." 



THE COCKLOFT FAMILY. 

The Cockloft family, of which I have made such frequent 
mention, is of great antiquity, if there be any truth in the 
genealogical tree which hangs up in my cousin's library., 
They trace their descent from a celebrated Roman Knight, 
cousin to the progenitor of his Majesty of Britain, who left 
his native country on occasion of some disgust ; and coming 
into Wales, became a great favourite of Prince Madoc, and 
accompanied that famous argonaut in the voyage which 
ended in the discovery of this continent. — Though a mem- 
ber of the family, I have sometimes ventured to doubt the 
authenticity of this portion of their annals, to the great vex- 
ation of cousin Christopher, who is looked up to as the head 
of our house ; and who, though as orthodox as a bishop, 
would sooner give up the whole decalogue than lop off a 
single limb of the family tree. From time immemorial, it 
has been the rule for the Cocklofts to marry one of their 
own name ; and as they always bred like rabbits, the family 
has increased and multiplied like that of Adam and Eve. 
In truth their number is almost incredible; and you can 
hardly go into any part of the country without starting a 
warren of genuine Cocklofts. Every person of the least "ob- 
servation, or experience, must have observed that where this 
practice of marrying cousins, and second cousins, prevails in 
a family, every member, in the course of a few generations, 
becomes queer, humorous, and original ; as much distin- 
guished from the common race of mongrels as if he were of 
a different species. This has happened in our family, and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 141 

particularly in that branch of it of which Christopher Cock- 
loft, Esq. is the head — Christopher is, in fact, the only mar- 
ried man of the name who resides in town ; his family is 
small, having lost most of his children when young, by the 
excessive care he took to bring them up like vegetables. 
This was one of the first whim-whams, and a confounded 
one it was ; as his children might have told, had they not 
fallen victims to his experiment before they could talk. He 
had got from some quack philosopher or other, a notion that 
there was a complete analogy between children and plants, 
and that they ought to be both reared alike. Accordingly 
he sprinkled them every morning with water, laid them out 
in the sun, as he did his geraniums ; and if the season was 
remarkably dr}'", repeated this wise experiment three or four 
times of a morning. The consequence was, the poor little 
souls died one after another, except Jeremy and his two 
sisters ; who, to be sure, are a trio of as odd, runty, mummy- 
looking originals as ever Hogarth fancied in his most happy 
moments. Mrs. Cockloft, the larger if not the better half 
of my cousin, often remonstrated against this vegetable the- 
ory; — and even brought the parson of the parish, in which 
my cousin's country house is situated, to her aid ; but in 
vain; Chris»topher persisted, and attributed the failure of his 
plan to its not having been exactly conformed to. As I 
have mentioned Mrs. Cockloft, I may as well say a little 
more about her while T am in the humour. She is a lady 
of wonderful notability, a warm admirer of shining mahoga- 
ny, clean hearths and her husband : whom she considers the 
wisest, man in the world, bating Will Wizard and the par- 
son of our parish ; the last of whom is her oracle on all oc- 
casions. She goes constantly to church every Sunday and 
saint's day, and insists upon it that no man is entitled to 
ascend a pulpit unless he has been ordained by a bishop ; 
nay, so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that all the argu- 
ments in the v/orld will never persuade her that a Presbyte- 
rian or Baptist, or even a Calvin ist, has any possible chance 
of going to heaven. Above every thing else, however, she 
abhors Paganism ; can scarcely refrain from laying violent 
hands on a Pantheon when she meets with it ; and was very 
nigh going into hysterics, when my cousin insisted that one 
of his boys should be christened after our laureate, because 



142 BEAUTIES OF 

the parson of the parish had told her that Pindar was the 
name of a Pao-an writer, famous for his love of boxing- 
matches, wrestling, and horse-racing. To sum up all her 
qualifications in the shortest possible wa}^, Mrs. Cockloft is, 
in the true sense of the phrase, a good sort of a woman ; and 
I often congratulate my cousin on possessing her. The rest 
of the family consists of oTeremy Cockloft, the younger, who 
has already been mentioned, and the two Miss Cocklofts, or 
rather the young ladies, as they have been called by the ser- 
vants time out of mind ; not that they are really young, the 
younger being somewhat on the shady side of thirty — but it 
has ever been the custom to call every member of the fami- 
ly young under fifty. In the south-east corner of the house, 
I hold quiet possession of an old-fashioned apartment, where 
myself and my elbow chair are suffered to amuse ourselves 
undisturbed, save at meal times. This apartment old Cock- 
loft has facetiously denominated Cousin Launce's Paradise ; 
and the good old gentleman has two or three favourite jokes 
about it, which are served up as regularly as the standing 
family dish of beefsteaks and onions, which every day main- 
tains its station at the foot of the table, in defiance of mutton, 
pouhry, or even venison itself 

Though the family is apparently small, yet, like most old 
establishments of the kind, it does not -want for honorary 
members. It is the city rendezvous of the Cocklofts ; and 
we are continually enlivened by the company of half a score 
of uncles, aunts, and cousins in the fortieth remove, from all 
parts of the county, who profess a wonderful regard for 
Cousin Christopher ; and overwhelm every member of his 
household, down to the cook in the kitchen, with their atten- 
tions. We have for three weeks past been greeted with the 
company of two worthy old spinsters, who came down from 
the country to settle a law suit. They have done little else 
but retail stories of their village neighbours, knit stockings, 
and take snuff, all the time they have been here : the whole 
family are bewildered v/ith church-yard tales of sheeted 
ghosts, M'hite horses v/ithout heads, and with large goggle 
eyes in their buttocks ; and not one of the old servants dare 
budge an inch after dark without a numerous company at 
his heels. My cousin's visiters, however, always return his 
hospitality with due gratitude, and now and then remind him 



WASHiNSTON IRTIN*. 143 

of their fraternal regard, by a present of a pot of apple 
sweetmeats, or a barrel of sour cider at Christmas. Jeremy 
displays himself to great advantage among his country rela- 
tions, who all think him a prodigy, and often stand astound- 
ed, in "gaping wonderment," at his natural philosophy. He 
lately frightened a simple old uncle almost out of his wits, 
by giving it as his opinion that the earth would one day be 
scorched to ashes by the eccentric gambols of the famous 
comet, so much talked of; and positively asserted that this 
world revolved round the sun, and that the moo« was cer- 
tainly inhabited. 

The family mansion bears equal marks of antiquity v/ith 
its inhabitants. As the Cocklofts are remarkable for their 
attachment to every thing that has remained long in the 
family, they are bigoted towards their old edifice, and I dare 
say would sooner have it crumble about their ears than aban- 
don it. The consequence is, it has been so patched up and 
repaired, that it has become as full of whims and oddities as 
its tenants ; requires to be nursed and humored like a gouty 
old codger of an alderman ; and reminds one of the famous 
ship in which a certain admiral circumnavigated the globe, 
which was so patched and timbered, in order to preserve so 
great a curiosity, that at length not a particle of the original 
remained. Whenever the wind blows, the old mansion 
makes a most perilous groaning ; and every storm is sure to 
make a day's work for the carpenter, who attends upon it 
as regularly as the family physician. This predilection for 
every thing that has been long in the family shows itself in 
every particular. The domestics are all grown grey in the 
service of our house. We have a little, old, crusty, grey- 
headed negro, who has lived through two or three genera- 
tions of the Cocklofts, and, of course, has become a person- 
age of no little importance in the household. He calls all 
the family by their christian names ; tells long stories about 
how he dandled them on his knee v/hen they were children : 
and is a complete Cockloft chronicle for the last seventy 
years. The family carriage was made in the last French 
war, and the old horses were most indubitably foaled in 
Noah's ark — resembling marvellously, in gravity of de- 
meanour, those sober animals which may be seen any day 
of the year in the streets of Philadelphia, walking their 



144 BEAUTIES QF 

snail's pace, a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jingling 
their bells. Whim-whams are the inheritance of the Cock- 
lofts, and every member of the household is a humorist 
sui generis, from the master down to the footman. The 
very cats and dogs are humorists; and we have a little 
runty scoundrel of a cur, who, whenever the church bells 
ring, will run to the street door, turn up his nose in the 
wind and howl most piteousiy. Jeremy insists that this is 
owing to a peculiar delicacy in the organization of his ears, 
and supports his position by many learned arguments which 
nobody can understand : but I am of opinion that it is a mere 
Cockloft whim-wham, which the little cur indulges, being 
descended from a race of dogs which has flourished in the 
family ever since the time of my grandfather. A propen- 
sity to save every thing that bears the stamp of family anti- 
quity has accumulated an abundance of trumpery and rub- ' 
bish with which the house is encumbered, from the cellar to 
the garret ; and every room, and closet, and corner, is 
crammed with three-legged chairs, clocks without hands, 
swords without scabbards, cocked hats, broken candlesticks, 
and looking glasses with frames carved into fantastic shapes, 
of feathered sheep, woolly birds, and other animals that 
have no name except in books of heraldry. The ponderous 
mahogany chairs in the parlour are of such unwieldy pro- 
portions, that it is quite a serious undertaking to gallant one 
of them across the room ; and sometimes make a most equiv- 
ocal noise when you sit down in a hurry : the mantel-piece 
is decorated with little lacquered earthen shepherdesses — 
some of which are without toes, and others without noses ; 
and the fire-place is garnished out with Dutch tiles, exhibit- 
ing a great variety of Scripture pieces, which my good old 
soul of a cousin takes infinite delight in explaining. Poor 
Jeremy hates them as he does poison ; for while a younker, 
he was obliged by his mother to learn the history of a tile 
every Sunday morning before she would permit him to join 
his play-mates : this was a terrible affair for Jeremy, who 
by the time he had learned the last had forgotten the first, 
and was obliged to begin again. He assured me the other 
day, with a round college oath, that if the old house stood 
out till he inherited it, he would have these tiles taken out, 
and ground into powder, for the perfect hatred he bore them. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 145 

My cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in the 
mansion of his forefathers ; he is truly what may be termed 
a heart}' old blade — has a florid, sunshiny countenance, and, 
if you will only praise his wine, and laugh at his long sto- 
ries, himself and his house are heartily at your service. 
The first condition is indeed easily complied with, for, to 
tell the truth, his wine is excellent ; but his stories being not 
of the best, and often repeated, are apt to create a disposi- 
tion to yawn, being, in addition to their other qualities, most 
unreasonably long. His prolixity is the more afflicting to 
me, since I have all his stories by heart ; and when he en- 
ters upon one, it reminds me of Newark causeway, where 
the traveller sees the end at the distance of several miles. 
To the great misfortune of all his acquaintance, cousin Cock- 
loft is blessed with a most provoking retentive memory, and 
can give day and date, and name and age and circumstance, 
with the most unfeeling precision. These, however, are but 
trivial foibles, forgotten, or remembered only with a kind of 
tender respectful pity, by those who know with what a rich 
redundant harvest of kindness and generosity his heart is 
stored. It would delight you to see with what social glad- 
ness he welcomes a visiter into his house ; and the poorest 
man that enters his door never leaves it without a cordial 
invitation to sit down and drink a glass of wine. By the 
honest farmers round his country seat, he is looked up to 
with love and reverence ; they never pass him by without 
his inquiring after the welfare of their families, and receiv- 
ing a cordial shake of his liberal hand. There are but two 
classes of people who are thrown out of the reach of his 
hospitality — and these are Frenchmen and Democrats. The 
old gentleman considers it treason against the majesty of 
good breeding to speak to any visiter with his hat on ; but 
the moment a Democrat enters his door, he forthwith bids 
. his man Pompey bring his hat, puts it on his head, and 
salutes him with, an appalling " Well, sir, what do you want 
with me ?" 

He has a profound contempt for Frenchmen, and firmly 
believes that they eat nothing but frogs and soup-maigre in 
their own country. This unlucky prejudice is partly owing 
to my great aunt Pamelia having been, many years ago, 
run away with by a French Count, who turned out to be 

13 



146 BEAUTIES OF 

the son of a generation of barbers ; and partly to a little 
vivid spark of toryism, which burns in a secret corner of his 
heart. He was a loyal subject of the crown ; has hardly 
yet recovered the shock of independence ; and though he 
does not care to own it, always does honour to his majesty's 
birth-day, by inviting a few cavaliers, like himself, to din- 
r^or ; and gracing his table with more than ordinary festi- 
vity. If by chance the revolution is mentioned before him, 
my cousin shakes his head ; and you may see, if you take 
good note, a lurking smile of contempt in the corner of his 
eye, which marks a decided disapprobation of the sound. 
He once, in the fulness of his heart, observed to me that 
green peas were a month later than they were under the old 
government. But the most eccentric manifestation of loyalty 
he ever gave was making a voyage to Halifax for no other 
reason under heaven but to hear his majesty prayed for in 
church, as he used to be here formerly. This he never could 
be brought fairly to acknowledge, but it is a certain iact I 
assure you. It is not a little singular, that a person so much 
given to long story-telling as my cousin, should take a lik- 
ing to another of the same character ; but so it is with the 
old gentleman — his prime favourite and companion is Will 
Wizard, who is almost a member of the family, and will sit 
before the fire, with his feet on the massy andirons, and 
smoke his cigar, and screw his phiz, and spin away tremen- 
dous long stories of his travels, ibr a whole evening, to the 
great delight of the old gentleman and lady, and especially 
of the young ladies, who, like Desdemona, do " seriously in- 
cline," and listen to him with innumerable " O dears," " is 
it possibles," " good graciouses," and look upon him as a 
second Sinbad the sailor. 

The Miss Cocklofts, whose pardon I crave for not having 
particularly introduced them before, are a pair of delectable 
damsels ; who having purloined and locked up the family- 
bible, pass for just what age they please to plead guilty to. 
Barbara, the eldest, has long since resigned the character of 
a belle, and adopted that staid, sober, demure, snuff-taking 
air, becoming her years and discretion. She is a good-na- 
tured soul, whom I never saw in a passion but once; and 
that was occasioned by seeing an old favourite beau of her's 
kiss the hand of a pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth she 



' * WASHINGTON IRVING. 147 

only got angry because, as she very properly said, it would 
spoil the child. Her sister Margery, or Maggie, as she is 
familiarly ternned, seemed disposed to maintain her post as a 
belle, until a few months since; when accidentally hear- 
ing a gentleman observe that she broke very fast, she sud- 
denly left off going to the assembly, took a cat into high fa- 
vour, and began to rail at the forward pertness of young 
misses. From that moment I set her dov/n for an old maid ; 
and so she is, " by the hand of my body." The young 
ladies are still visited by some half dozen of veteran beaux, 
who grew and flourished in the haut ton, when the Miss 
Cocklofts were quite children, but have been brushed rather 
rudely by the hand of time, who, to say the truth, can do al- 
most any thing but make people young. They are, notwith- 
standing, still warm candidates for female favour ; look 
venerably tender, and repeat over and over the same honey- 
ed speeches and sugared sentiments to the little belles that 
ihey poured so profusely into the ears of their mothers. I 
beg leave here to give notice, that by this sketch I mean no 
reflection on old bachelors ; on the conti^ary, I hold, that, 
next to a fine lady, the ne plus ultra, an old bachelor is the 
most charming being upon earth ; inasmuch as by living in 
" single blessedness," he of course does just as he pleases ; 
and if he has any genius must acquire a plentiful stock of 
whims, and oddities, and whalebone habits : without which 
I esteem a man to be mere beef without mustard, good for 
nothing at all, but to run on errands for ladies, take boxes 
at the theatre, and act the part of a screen at tea-parties, or 
a walking stick in the streets. I merely speak of those old 
boys who infest public walks, pounce upon the ladies from 
every corner of the street, and worry and frisk and amble, 
and caper before, behind, and round about the fashionable 
belles, like old ponies in a pasture, striving to supply the ab- 
sence of youthful whim and hilarity, by grimaces and grins, 
and artificial vivacity. I have sometimes seen one of these 
" reverend youths" endeavouring to elevate his wintry pas- 
sions into something like love, by basking in the sunshine of 
beauty ; and it did remind me of an old moth attempting to 
fly through a pain of glass towards a light without ever ap- 
proaching near enough to warm itself, or scorch its wings. 
Never, I firmly believe, did there exist a family that went 



148 BEAUTIES OF 

more by tangents than the Cocklofts. Every thing is gov- 
erned by whim ; and if one member starts a new freak, 
away all the rest follow like wild geese in a string. As the 
family, the servants, the horses, cats, and dogs, have all 
grown old together, they have accommodated themselves to 
each other's habits completely ; and though every body of 
them is full of odd points, angles, rhomboids, and ins and 
outs, yet somehow or other, they harmonize together like so 
many straight lines ; and it is truly a grateful and refresh- 
ing sight to see them agree so well. Should one, however, 
get out of tune, it is like a cracked fiddle, the whole concert 
is ajar ; you perceive a cloud over every brow in the house, 
and even the old chairs seem to creak afFettuoso. If my cou- 
sin, as he is rather apt to do, betray any symptoms of vexa- 
tion or uneasiness, no matter about what, he is worried to 
death with inquiries, which answer no other end but to de- 
monstrate the good will of the inquirer, and put him in a 
passion ; for every body knows how provokingly it is to be 
cut short in a fit of the blues, by an impertinent question 
about " what is the matter?' when a man can't tell himself. 
I remember a few months ago the old gentleman came home 
in quite a squall ; kicked poor Csesar, the mastiff, out of his 
way as he came through the hal I ; threw his hat on the table 
with most violent emphasis, and pulling out his box, took 
three huge pinches of snuff, and ihrew a fourth into the cat's 
eyes as he sat purring his astonishment by the fire-side. 
This was enough to set the body politic going ; Mrs. Cock- 
loft began "my dearing" it as fast as tongue could move; 
the young ladies took each a stand at an elbow of his chair; 
Jeremy marshaled in rear ; the servants came tumbling in ; 
the mastiff put up an inquiring nose ; and even grimalkin, 
after he had cleansed his whiskers and finished sneezing, 
discovered indubitable signs of sympathy. After the most 
affectionate inquiries on all sides, it turned out that my cou- 
sin, in crossing the street, had got his silk stockings bespat- 
tered with mud by a coach which it seems belonged to a 
dashing gentleman w^ho had formerly supplied the family 
with hot rolls and muffins ! Mrs. Cockloft thereupon turned 
up her eyes, and the young ladies their noses ; and it would 
have edified a whole congregation to hear the conversation 
which took place concerning the insolence of upstarts, and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 149 

the vulgarity of would-be gentlemen and ladies, who strive 
to emerge from low life by dashing about in carriages to pay 
a visit two doors off, giving parties to people who laugh at 
them, and cutting all their old friends. 



CONVERSION OF THE AMERICANS. 

But the most important branch of civilization, and which 
has most strenuously been extolled, by the zealous and pious 
fathers of the Romish Church, is the introduction of the 
Christian faith. It was truly a sight that might well inspire 
horror, to behold these savages, stumbling among the dark 
mountains of paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ig- 
norance of religion. It is true, they neither stole nor de- 
frauded ; they were sober, frugal, content, and faithful to 
their word ; but though they acted right habitually, it was 
ail in vain, unless they acted so from precept. The new 
comers therefore used every method to induce them to em- 
brace and practise the true religion — except indeed that of 
setting them the example. 

But notwithstanding all these complicated labours for their 
good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn 
wretches, that they ungratefully refused to acknowledge the 
strangers as their benefactors, and persisted in disbelieving 
the doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate; most insolently 
alleging that from their conduct, the advocates of Christiani- 
ty did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too 
much for human patience? — would not one suppose, that 
the benign visitants from Europe, provoked at their incre- 
dulity, and discouraged, by their stiff-necked obstinacy, 
would for ever have abandoned their shores, and consigned 
them to their original ignorance and misery ? But no — so 
zealous were they to effect the temporal comfort and eternal 
salvation of these pagan infidels, that they even proceeded 
from the milder means of persuasion to the more painful 
and troublesome one of persecution — let loose among them 
whole troops of fiery monks and furious blood-hounds — pu- 
rified them by fire and sword, by stake and fagot ; in con- 

13* 



150 BEAUTIES OF 

sequence of which indefatigable measures the cause of 
Christian love and charity was so rapidly advanced that, in 
a very few years, not one-fifth of the number of unbelievers 
existed in South America, that were found there at the time 
of its discovery. 

What stronger right need the European settlers advance 
to the country than this ? Flave not whole nations of unin- 
formed savages been made acquainted with a thousand 
imperious wants and indispensable comforts, of which they 
were before wholly ignorant ? Have they not been literally 
hunted and smoked out of the dens and lurking places of 
ignorance and infidelity, and absolutely scourged into the 
right path ? Have not the temporal things, the vain baubles 
and filthy lucre of this world, which were too apt to engage 
their worldly and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken 
from them ; and have they not instead thereof, been taught 
to set their affections on things above? And, finally, to use 
the words of a Reverend Spanish Father, in a letter to his 
superior in Spain — " Can any one have the presumption to 
say, that these savage Pagans have yielded any thing more 
than an inconsiderable recompense to their benefactors, in 
surrendering to them a pitiful tract of this dirty sublunary 
planet, in exchange fbr a glorious inheritance in the king- 
dom of Heaven?" 

Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources of 
right established, any one of which was more than ample to 
establish a property in the newly-discovered regions of 
America. Now, so it has happened in certain parts of this 
delightful quarter of the globe that the right of discovery has 
been so strenuously asserted, the influence of cultivation so 
industriously extended, and the progress of salvation and 
civilization so zealously prosecuted ; that, what with their 
attendant wars, persecutions, and oppressions, diseases, and 
other partial evils that often hang on the skirts of great bene- 
fits, the savage aborigines have, some how or other, been 
utterly annihilated ; and this all at once brings me to a fourth 
right, which is worth all the others put together ; for the 
original claimants to the soil being all dead and buried, and 
no one remaining to inherit or dispute the soil, the Spaniards, 
as the next immediate occupants, entered upon the possession 
as clearly as the hangman succeeds to the clothes of the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 151 

malefactor — and as they have Blackstone,* and all the 
learned expounders of the law on their side, they may set 
all actions of ejectment at defiance — and this last right may 
be entitled the right by extermination, or in other words, 

the RIGHT BY GUNPOWDER. 

But, lest any scruples of conscience should remain on 
this head, and to settle the question of right for ever, his 
holiness Pope Alexander VI. issued a mighty bull, by which 
he generously granted the newly-discovered quarter of the 
globe to the Spaniards and Portuguese; who, thus having 
law and gospel on their side, and being inflamed with great 
spiritual zeal, showed the Pagan savages neither favour nor 
affection, but prosecuted the work of discovery, coloniza- 
tion, civilization, and extermination, with ten times more 
fury than ever. 

Thus were the European worthies who first discovered 
America, clearly entitled to the soil; and not only entitled 
10 the soil, but likewise to the eternal thanks of these infidel 
savages, for having come so far, endured so many perils by 
sea and land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other 
purpose but to improve their forlorn, uncivilized, and hea- 
thenish condition — -for having made them acquainted with 
the comforts of life — for having introduced among them the 
light of religion ; and finally, for having hurried them out 
of the world, to enjoy its reward ! 



TOM STRADDLE. 

Will's great crony for some time was Tom Strad- 
dle, to whom he really took a great liking. Straddle had 
just arrived in an importation of hardware, fresh from the 
city of Birmingham, or rather as the most learned English 
would call it Brmmnagen, so famous for its manufactories 
of gimlets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, and where they 
make buttons and beaux enough to inundate our whole 
country. He was a young man of considerable standing in 
the manufactory at Birmingham ; sometimes had the honouT 

* El. Com. b, ii. c. 1. 



152 BEAUTIES OF 

to hand his master's daughter into a tim-whiskey, was the 
oracle of the tavern he frequented on Sundays, and could 
beat all his associates, if you would take his word for it, in 
boxing, beer-drinking, jumping over chairs, and imitating 
cats in a gutter, and opera-singers. Straddle was, more- 
over, a member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at 
ringing bob-majors; he was, of course, a complete connois- 
seur in music, and entitled to assume that character at all 
performances in the art. He was likewise a member of a 
spouting-club ; had seen a company of strolling actors per- 
form in a barn, and had even, like Abel Drugger, "enacted" . 
the part of Major Sturgeon with considerable applause ; he 
was consequently a profound critic, and fully authorized to 
turn up liis nose at any American performances. He had 
twice partaken of annual dinners, given to the head manu- 
facturers at Birmingham, where he had the good fortune to 
get a taste of turtle and turbot, and a smack of Champaign 
and Burgundy ; and he had heard a vast deal of the roast 
beef of Old England ; — he was therefore epicure sufficient to 
d — n every dish and every glass of wine he tasted in 
America, though at the same time he was as voracious an 
animal as ever crossed the Atlantic. Straddle had been 
splashed half a dozen times by the carriages of nobility, and 
had once the superlative felicity of being kicked out of 
doors by the footman of a noble duke; he could, therefore, 
talk of nobility, and despise the untitled plebeians of America. 
In short, Straddle was one of those dapper, bustling, florid, 
round, self-important '-'- gemmen,'''' who bounce upon us half- 
beau, half-button-maker; undertake to give us the true polish 
of the bon-ton, and endeavour to inspire us with a proper 
and dignified contempt of our native country. 

Straddle was quite in raptures when his employers deter- 
mined to send him to America as an agent. He considered 
himself as going among a nation of barbarians, where he 
could be received as a prodigy: he anticipated, with a proud 
satisfliction, the bustle and confusion his arrival would occa- 
sion ; the crowd that would throng to gaze at him as he 
passed through the streets ; and had little doubt but that he 
should excite as much curiosity as an Indian chief or a Turk 
in the streets of Birmingham. He had heard of the beauty 
of our women, and chuckled at the thought of how com- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 153 

pletely he should eclipse their unpolished beaux, and the 
number of despairing lovers that would mourn the hour of 
his arrival. I am even informed by Will Wizard, that he 
put good store of beads, spike-nails, and looking-glasses in 
his trunk, to win the affections of the fair ones as they pad- 
dled about in their bark canoes. The reason Will gave for 
this error of Straddle's respecting our ladies was, that he 
had read in Guthrie's Geography that the aborigines of 
America were all savages ; and not exactly understanding 
the word aborigines, he applied to one of his fejlow-appren- 
tices, who assured him that it was the Latin word for inha- 
bitants. 

Wizard used to tell another anecdote of Straddle, which 
always put him in a passion : — Will swore that the captain 
of the ship told him, that when Straddle heard they were 
off the banks of Newfoundland, he insisted upon going on 
shore there to gather some good cabbages, of which he was 
excessively fond. Straddle, however, denied all this, and 
declared it to be a mischievous quiz of Will Wizard, who 
indeed often made himself merry at his expense. However 
this may be, certain it is he kept his tailor and shoemaker 
constantly employed for a month before his departure ; 
equipped himself with a smart crooked stick about eighteen 
inches long, a pair of breeches of most unheard-of length, 
a little short pair of Hoby's white-topt boots, that seemed 
to stand on tiptoe to reach his breeches, and his hat had the 
true transatlantic declination towards his right ear. The 
fact was — nor did he make any secret of it — he was deter- 
mined to astonish the natives a few ! 

Straddle was not a little disappointed on his arrival, to 
find the Americans were rather more civilized than he had 
imagined: — he was suffered to walk to his lodgings unmo- 
lested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a single indivi- 
dual ; — no love-letters came pouring in upon him ; — no rivals 
lay in wait to assassinate him ; — his very dress excited no 
attention, for there were many fools dressed equally ridicu- 
lous with himself. This was mortifying indeed to an aspir- 
ing youth, who had come out with the idea of astonishing 
and captivating. He was equally unfortunate in his preten- 
sions to the character of critic, connoisseur and boxer; he 
condemned our whole dramatic corps, and every thing ap- 



154 BEAUTIE8 OF 

pertaining to the theatre ; but bis critical abilities were ridi- 
culed ; — he found fault with old Cockloft's dinner, not even 
sparing his wine, and was never invited to the house after- 
wards ; — he scoured the streets at night, and was cudgelled 
by a sturdy watchman ;— he hoaxed an honest mechanic, 
and was soundly kicked. Thus disappointed in ail his at- 
tempts at notoriety, Straddle hit on the expedient which 
was resorted to by the Giblets ; — he determined to take the 
town by storm. He accordingly bought horses and equi- 
pages, and forthwith made a furious dash at style in a gig 
and tandem. 

As Straddle's finances were but limited, it may easily be 
supposed that his fashionable career infringed a little upon 
his consignments, which was indeed the case — for to use a 
true cockney phrase, Brummagen suffered. But this was 
a circumstance that made little impression upon Straddle, 
who was now a lad of spirit—and lads of spirit always j 
despise the sordid cares of keeping another man's money. M 
Suspecting this circumstance, I never could witness any of *^ 
his exhibitions of style without some whimsical associatioB 
of ideas. Did he give an entertainment to a host of guzzling 
friends, I immediately fancied them gormandizing heartily 
at the expense of poor Birmingham, and swallowing a con- 
signment of hand-saws and razors. Did I behold him dash- 
ing through Broadway in his gig, I saw him, " in my mind's 
eye," driving tandem on a nest of tea-boards ; nor could I 
ever contemplate his cockney exhibitions of horsemanship, 
but my nriischievous imagination would picture him spurring 
a cask of hardware, like rosy Bacchus bestriding a beer- 
barrel, or the little gentleman who be-straddles the world in 
the front of Hutching's Almanac. 

Straddle was equally successful with the Giblets, as may 
well be supposed ; for though pedestrian merit may strive in 
vain to become fashionable in Gotham, yet a candidate in an 
equipage is always recognized, and like Philip's ass, laden 
with gold, will gain admittance every where. Mounted m 
his curricle or his gig, the candidate is like a statue elevated 
on a high pedestal ; his merits are discernible from afar, 
and strike the dullest optics. Oh ! Gotham, Gotham I most 
enlightened of cities ! how does my heart swell with delight 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 155 

when I behold your sapient inhabitants lavishing their at- 
tention with such wonderful discernment ! 

Thus Straddle became quite a man of ton, and was ca- 
ressed, and courted, and invited to dinners and balls. What- 
ever was absurd or ridiculous in him before, was now de- 
clared to be the style. He criticized our theatre, and was 
listened to with reverence. He pronounced our musical en- 
tertainments barbarous ; and the judgment of ApoHo himself 
would not have been more decisive. He abused our dinners ; 
and the god of eating, if there be any such deity, seemed to 
speak through his organs. He became at once a man of 
taste — for he put his malediction on everything; and his 
arguments were conclusive — for he supported every asser- 
tion with a bet. He was likewise pronounced by the learn- 
ed in the fashionable world a young man of great research 
and deep observation, — for he had sent home, as natural 
curiosities, an ear of Indian corn, a pair of moccasons, a 
belt of wampum, and a four-leafed clover. He had taken 
great pains to enrich this curious collection with an Indian, 
and a cataract, but without success. In fme, the people 
talked of Straddle and his equipage, and Straddle talked of 
his horses, until it was impossible for the most critical ob- 
server to pronounce whether Straddle or his horses were 
most admired, or whether Straddle admired himself or his 
horses most. 

Straddle was now in the zenith of his glory. He swag- 
gered about parlours and drawing-rooms with the same un- 
ceremonious confidence he used to display, in the taverns at 
Birmingham. He accosted a lady as he would a bar-maid; 
and this was pronounced a certain proof that he had been 
used to better company in Birmingham. Fie became the 
great man of all the taverns between New- York and Har- 
lem ; and no one stood a chance of being accommodated 
until Straddle and his horses were perfectly satisfied. He 
d — d the landlords and waiters, with the best air in the world, 
and accosted them with gentlemanly familiarity. He stag- 
gered from the dinner-table to the play, entered the box like 
a tempest, stayed long enough to be bored to death, and to 
bore all those who had the misfortune to be near him. From 
thence he dashed off to a ball, time enough to flounder 
through a cotillion, tear half a dozen gowns, commit a num- 



15G BEAUTIES OF 

ber of other depredations, and make the whole company 
sensible of his infinite condescension in coming amongst 
them. The people of Gotham thought him a prodigious 
fine fellow ; the young bucks cultivated his acquaintance 
with the most persevering assiduity, and his retainers were 
sometimes complimented with a seat in his curricle, or a 
ride on one of his fine horses. The belles were delighted 
with the attentions of such a fashionable gentleman, and 
struck with astonishment at his learned distinctions between 
wrought scissors and those of cast steel; together with his 
profound dissertations on buttons and horse-flesh. The rich 
merchants courted his acquaintance because he was an Eng- 
lishman, and their wives treated him with great deference 
because he had come from beyond seas. I cannot help here 
observing that your saltwater is a marvellous great sharpener 
of men's wits, and I intend to recommend it to some of my 
acquaintance in a particular essay. 

Straddle continued his brilliant career for only a short 
time. His prosperous journey over the turnpike of fashion 
was checked by some of those stumbling-blocks in the way 
of aspiring youth called creditors — or dims: — a race of 
people who, as a celebrated writer observes, " are hated by 
the gods and men." Consignments slackened, whispers of 
distant suspicion floated in the dark, and those pests of so- 
ciety, the tailors and shoemakers, rose in rebellion against 
Straddle. In vain were all his remonstrances; in vain did 
he prove to them, that though he had given them no money, 
yet he had given them more custom, and as many promises 
as any young man in the city. They were inflexible ; and 
the signal of danger being given, a host of other prosecu- 
tors pounced upon his back. Straddle saw there was but 
one way for it ; he determined to do the thing genteely, to 
go to smash like a hero, and dashed into the limits in high 
style ; being the fifteenth gentleman I have known to drive 
tandem to the — 7ie plvs ultra — the d — 1. 

Unfortunate Straddle! may thy fate be a warning to all 
young gentlemen who come from Birmingham to astonish 
the natives ! — I should never have taken the trouble to de- 
lineate his character, had he not been a genuine Cockney, 
and worthy to be the representative of his numerous tribe. 
Perhaps my simple countrymen may hereafter be able to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. ^ 157 

distinguish between the real English gentlemen and indi- 
viduals of the cast I have heretofore spoken of, as mere 
mongrels, springing at one bound from contemptible obscu- 
rity at home to daylight and splendour in this good-natured 
land. The true-born and true-bred English gentleman is a 
character I hold in great respect ; and I love to look back to 
the period when our forefathers flourished in the same gene- 
rous soil, and hailed each other as brothers. But the Cock- 
ney! — when I contemplate him as springing too from the 
same source, I feel ashamed of the relationship, and am 
tempted to deny my origin. In the character of Straddle is 
traced the complete outline of a true Cockney of English 
growth, and a descendant of that individual facetious cha- 
racter mentioned by Shakspeare, " who in pure kindness to 
his horse, buttered his hay." 



SLEEPY HOLLOW. 

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent 
the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of 
the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the 
Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened 
sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they 
crossed, there lies a small market-town or rural port, which 
by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more general- 
ly and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This 
name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good 
housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate 
propensity of their husbands to linger about the village 
tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch 
for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being 
precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps 
about three miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of 
land, among high hills, which is one of the quietest places 

14 



158 BEAUTIES OF 

in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with 
just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occa- 
sional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is al- 
most the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform 
tranquillity. 

1 recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in 
squirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees that 
shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at 
noon time, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was 
startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath 
stillness around, and was prolonged and reverberated by 
the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat, 
whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, 
and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I 
know of none more promising than this little valley. 

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar 
character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the 
original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been 
known by the name of Sleepy Hollow, and its rustic lads 
are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neigh- 
bouring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to 
hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. 
Some say that the place was bewitched by a high German 
doctor during the early days of the settlement ; others, that 
an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held 
his powwows there before the country was discovered by 
Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still con- 
tinues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a 
spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to 
■walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of 
marvellous beliefs ; are subject to trances and visions ; and 
frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in 
the air. The whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, 
haunted spots, and twilight superstitions ; stars shoot and 
meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other 
part of the country, and the night-mare, with her whole nine 
fold, seems to make it the favourite scene of her gam- 
bols. 

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted 
region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the pow- 



WASHIN&TON IRVIKS. 159 

ers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback 
without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a 
Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a 
cannon ball, in some nameless battle during the revolution- 
ary war ; and who is ever and anon seen by the country 
folk, hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the 
wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the val- 
ley, but extend at times to adjacent roads, and especially to 
the vicinity of a church that is at no great distance. In- 
deed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, 
who have been careful in collecting and collating the float- 
ing facts concerning this spectre, allege that, the body of the 
trooper having been buried in the church-yard, the ghost 
rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, 
and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes 
along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his 
being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the church-yard 
before day-break. 

Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, 
which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that 
region of shadows ; and the spectre is known at all the coun- 
try firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of 
Sleepy Hollow. 

It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have men- 
tioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, 
but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there 
for a time. However wide awake they may have been be- 
fore they entered that sleepy region, they are sure in a little 
time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin 
to grow imaginative — to dream dreams, and see appari- 
tions. 

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud ; for it 
is in such little retired Dutch valle5'-s, found here and there, 
embosomed in the great state of New-York, that population, 
manners, and customs, remain fixed ; while the great tor- 
rent of migration and improvement, which is making such 
incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, 
sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little 
nooks of still water which border a rapid stream ; where 
we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, 



160 BEAUTIES OF 

or slowly revolving in their mimic harbour, undisturbed by 
ihe rush of the passing current. Though many years have 
elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, 
yet I question whether 1 should not still find the same trees 
and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom. 



Ichabod Crane. 

In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period 
of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, 
a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane ; who so- 
journed, or, as he expressed it, " tarried," in Sleepy Hollow, 
for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. 
He was a native of Connecticut : a state which supplies the 
Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, 
and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and 
country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not 
inapplicable to his person. H^e was tall, but exceedingly 
lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands 
that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have 
served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung 
together. His head was small and fiat at top, with huge 
ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so 
that it looked like a weathercock, perched upon his spindle 
neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him strid- 
ing along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his 
clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have 
mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the 
earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. 

His school-room was a low building of one large room, 
rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly glazed, and 
partly patched with leaves of old copy books. It was most 
ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in 
the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window 
shutters; so that though a thief might get in with perfect 
ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out ; an 
idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van 
Houten, from the mystery of an eel pot. The school-house 



WASHlK6T0]Sr IRnNO. 161 

stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the 
foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a 
formidable birch tree growing at one end of it. From 
hence the low murmur of his pupils' voices, conning over 
their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer's day, 
like the hum of a beehive ; interrupted now and then by 
the authoritative voice of the master, in a tone of menace 
or command ; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of 
the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery 
path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious 
man, that ever bore in mind the golden maxim, " Spare the 
rod and spoil the child." — Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly 
were not spoiled. 

I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one 
of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the smart 
of their subjects ; on the contrary he administered justice 
with discrimination rather than severity ; taking the burthen 
off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the 
strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least 
flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the 
claims of justice were satisfied, by inflicting a double portioa 
on some little, tough, wrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch 
urchin, who skulked and swelled, and grew dogged, and sul- 
len beneath the birch. All this he called " doing his duty 
by their parents :" and he never inflicted a chastisement, 
without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to the 
smarting urchin, that " he would remember it and thank 
him for it the longest day he had to live." 

When school hours were over, he was even the compan- 
ion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holyday after- 
noons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who 
happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for 
mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed 
it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The 
revenue arising from his school was small, and would have 
been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for 
he was a huge feeder, and though lank, had the dilating 
powers of an Anaconda ; but to help out his maintenance, 
he was, according to country custom in those parts, board- 
ed and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children 

14* 



162 BEAUTIES OF 

he instructed. With these he Hved successively a week at 
a time; thus "going the rounds of the neighbourhood, with 
all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. 

That all this might not be^^too onerous on the purses of 
his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of 
schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters, as mere 
drones, he^had various ways of rendering himself both use- 
ful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in 
the lighter labours of their farms ; helped to make hay j 
mended the fences ; took the horses to water ; drove the 
cows from pasture ; and cut wood for the winter fire. He 
laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute sway 
with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and 
become wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found fa- 
vour in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children, 
particularly the youngest ; and like the lion bold, which 
whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit 
with a child on one knee and rock a^cradle for whole hours 
together. 

In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing 
master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many bright 
shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. It 
was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take 
his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of 
chosen singers; where, in his own mind, he completely car- 
ried away the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice 
resounded far above all the rest of the congregation ; and 
there are peculiar quivers still to be heard in that church, and 
may still be heard half-a-mile off, quite to the opposite side 
of the mill pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said 
to be legitimately descended from- the nose of Ichabod 
Crane. Thus, by divers little makeshifts, in that ingenious 
way which is commonly denominated " by hook and by- 
crook," the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and 
was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labour 
of headwork, to have a wonderful easy life of it. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 163 



Superstition, 



But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and ap- 
paritions that succeeded. The neighbourhood is rich in le- 
gendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and supersti- 
tions thrive best in these sheltered long settled retreats ; but 
are trampled under foot by the shifting throng that forms 
the population of most of our country places. Besides, there 
is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for 
they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and 
turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends 
have travelled away from the neighbourhood ; so that when 
they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no 
acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason 
why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long estab- 
lished Dutch communities. 

The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of su- 
pernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the 
vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion in the 
very air that blew from that haunted region ; it breathed 
forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the 
land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present 
at Van Tassal's, and, as usual, were doling out their wild 
and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about 
funeral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and 
seen about the great tree where the unfortunate Major Andre 
Was taken, and which stood in the neighbourhood. Some 
mention was made also of the woman in white, that haunt- 
ed the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to 
shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished 
there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, 
turned upon the favourite spectre of Sleepy HoUov/, the 
headless horseman, who had been heard several times of 
late, patrolling the country ; and, it was said, tethered his 
horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard. 

The sequestered situation of this church seems always to 
have made it a favoured haunt of troubled spirits. It stands 
on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty elms, from 
among which, its decent whitewashed walls shine modestly 



164 BEAUTIES OF 

forth, like Christian purity, beaming through the shades of 
retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver 
sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps 
may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look 
upon its grass grown yard, there the sunbeams seem to 
sleep so quietly, one would ihink that there at least the dead 
might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a 
wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among 
broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black 
part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly 
thrown a wooden bridge ; the road that led to it, and the 
bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, 
which cast a gloom about it even in the day time ; but oc- 
casioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the 
favourite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place 
where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was 
told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, 
how he met the horseman returning from his foray into 
Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind him ; 
how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill and 
swamp, until they reached the bridge ; when the horseman 
suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the 
brook, and sprang away over the tree tops with a clap of 
thunder. 



THE BROKEN HEART. 

It is a common practice with those who have outlived 
the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought up 
in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at all 
love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion as 
mere fictions of novelists and poets. My observations on 
human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They 
have convinced me, that however the surface of the charac- 
ter may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or 
cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 165 

are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, 
which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are 
sometimes desolating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true 
behever in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his 
doctrines. Shall I confess it ! — I believe in broken hearts, 
and the possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, 
however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex ; 
but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely 
woman into an early grave. 

Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His na- 
ture leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of the 
world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, or 
a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, 
for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion 
over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life is a history 
of the affections. The heart is her world : it is there her 
ambition strives for empires ; it is there her avarice seeks 
for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on 
adventure ; she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of af- 
fection ; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a 
bankruptcy of the heart. 

To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some 
bitter pangs : it wounds some feelings of tenderness-^ — it 
blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being- 
he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupa- 
tion, or may plunge into the tide of pleasure ; or, if the scene 
of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he can 
shift his abode at will, and taking as it were the wings of 
the morning, can " fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, 
and be at rest." 

But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a 
meditative life. She is more the companion of her own 
thoughts and feelings ; and if they are turned to ministers 
of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation ? Her lot 
is to be wooed and won ; and if unhappy in her love, her 
heart is like some fortress that has been captured and sack- 
ed, and abandoned and left desolate. 

How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft 
cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away into 
the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their 



166 BEAUTIES OF 

loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and 
cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals, so 
it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs 
of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is al- 
ways shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely 
breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in 
the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood 
among the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of the 
heart has failed. The great charm of existence is at an 
end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises which gladden 
the spirits, quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in 
healthful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken — - 
the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy 
dreams — " dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled 
frame sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for 
her, after a little while, and you will find friendship weep- 
ing over her untimely grave, and wondering that one who 
but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty, 
should so speedily be brought down to " darkness and the 
worm." You will be told of some wintry chill, some casual 
indisposition, that laid her low ; — but no one knows of the 
mental malady that previously sapped her strength, and 
made her so easy a prey to the spoiler. 

She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of the 
grove; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but with 
the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly with- 
ering, when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We 
see it drooping its branches^ to the earth, and shedding 
leaf by leaf; until, wasted and perished away, it falls even 
in the stillness of the forest ; and, as we muse over the 
beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast or 
thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay. 

I have seen many instances of women running to waste 
and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from the earth, 
almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven ; and have re- 
peatedly fancied that I could trace their death through the 
various declensions of consumption, cold, debility, languor, 
melancholy, until I reached the first symptom of disap- 
pointed love. But an instance of the kind was lately told 
to me ; the circumstances are well known in the countrv 



WASHINGTON IRVlNfi. ' 167 

where they happened, and I shall but give them in the man- 
ner as they were related. 

Every one must recollect the tragical story of young 
E , the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon for- 
gotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, con- 
demned, and executed on a charge of treason. His fate 
made a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so 
young — so intelligent — so generous — so brave — so every 
thing that we are apt to like in a young man. His conduct 
under trial too, was so lofty and intrepid. The noble indig- 
nation with which he repelled the charge of treason against 
his country — the eloquent vindication of his name — and his 
pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condem- 
nation — all these entered deeply into every generous bosom, 
and even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated 
his execution.* - 

* This ill-staiTed youth was the son of Dr. Emmet, a gentleman of fortune and 
family, whose mind was deeply imbued with republican principles, which he was 
but too successful in impressing upon his children. His eldest son, Thomas Ad- 
dis Eminit, being a suspected charactei*, in 17Q8 he accepted the terms offered by 
Government, and retired to France, from thence he proceeded to New-York, 
where he held the first place at the bar of that city, highly respected as a lawyer 
and esteemed as a man. Robert, the person alluded to by our author, either pos- 
sessing more enthusiasm or less prudence than his brother, became involved in a 
series of insurrections, which at last attracted the attention of Government, and 
the unfortunate man was arrested while he lingered in his flight, in expectation of 
a last meeting with the lady to whom he was engaged. This amiable female, 
whose hard fate is dtssci'ibed with so much pathos by our author, was the daugh- 
ter of the celebrated John Philpot Curran. The following address \fi>.s delivered 
by Emmet on his trial. 

" I am asked if I have any thing to say why sentence of death should not be 
pronounced upon me. Was I to suifer only death, after being adjudged guilty, I 
should bow in silence ; but a man in my situation has not only to combat with 
the difficulties of fortune, but also the difficulties of prejudice : the sentence of 
the law which delivers over his body to the executioner consigns his character to 
obloquy. The man die?, but his memory lives ; and that mine may not forfeit 
all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate my- 
self from some of the charges advanced against me. 

" I am charged with being an emissary of France — 'tis false ! I am no emissary 
—I did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign power, and least of all to 
France. No ! never did I entertain the idea of establishing French power in 
Ireland— God forbid. On the contrai-y, it is evident from the introductory para- 
graph of the address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending 
an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of inti'odueing a 
French a? my into the country. Small would be our claims to patriotism and to 
sense, and palpable our affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to encourage 
the profanation of our shores by a people who are slaves themselves and the un- 
principled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. 



168 BEAUTIES OF 

But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be im- 
possible to describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, 
he had won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, 
the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved 
him with the disinterested fervour of a woman's first and 
early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself 
against him ; when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and 
danger darkened around his name, she loved him the more 
ardently for his very sufferings. If, then, his fate could 
awaken the sympathy even of his foes, what must have been 
the agony of her, whose whole soul was occupied by his 
image ! Let those teil who have had the portals of the tomb 
suddenly closed between them and the being they most 
loved on earth — who have sat at its threshold, as one shut 
out in a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was 
most lovely and loving had departed. 

But then the horrors of such a grave ! so frightful, so 
dishonoured ! There was nothing for memory to dwell on 

" If such an inference be drawn from anj' part of the proclamation of the Pro- 
visional Government, it calumniates their views, and is not warranted by the 
fact. How could they speak of freedom to their countrymen ? How assume such an 
exalted motive, and meditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy 
of freedom in every part of the globe ? Reviewing the conduct of France to 
other countries, could we expect better towards us ? No ! Let not, then, any man 
attaint my memory by believing that I could have hoped for freedom through the aid 
of France, and beti-ayed the sacred cause of liberty by committing it to the power 
of her most determined foe: had I done so, I had not deserved to live; and dying 
with such a weight upon my chai-acter, I had merited the honest execrations of 
that eoujitry which gave me birth, and to which I would have given freedom. 

" Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the French— in the dig- 
nity of freedom, I would have expired on the threshold of that country, and they 
should have entered it only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it then to be 
supposed that I would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land ? 
Am I, who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would subject my- 
self to the bondage of the grave to give her independence— am I to be loaded with 
the foul and grievous calumny of being an emissary of France ? 

" My lords, it may be part of the system of angry justice, to bow a man's mind, 
by humiliation, to meet the ignominy of the scaffold ; but worse to me than the 
scaffold's shame, or the scaffold's terrors, would be the imputation of having been 
the agent of French despotism and ambition ; and while I have breath, I will call 
upon my countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their 
liberties and their happiness. 

" Though you, my lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a culprit, yet you are 
but a man and I am another. I have a right therefore to vindicate my character 
and motives from the aspersions of calumny ; and, as a man, to whom fame is 
dearer than life^ I will make th^ last use of that life in rescuing my name and my 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 169 

that could sooth the pang of separation — none of those ten- 
der, though melancholy circumstances, that endear the part- 
ing scene — nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed tears, 
sent, like the dews of heaven, to revive the heart in the 
parting hour of anguish. 

To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had 
incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attach- 
ment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could 
the sympathy and kind offices of friends have reached a 
spirit-so shocked and driven in by horror, she would have 
•experienced no want of consolation, for the Irish are a peo- 
ple of quick and generous sensibihties. The most delicate 
and cherishing attentions were paid her by families of 
wealth and distinction. She was led into society, and they 
tried by all kinds of occupation and amusement to dissipate 
her grief, and wean her from the tragical story of her lover. 
But it was all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity 

memory from the afflicting imputation of having bean an emissai'y of France, or 
sttking her intenerence in the internal regulation of our affairs. 

" Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would meet it on 
the shore, with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other ; I would receive 
them with all the destruction of war ! I would animate my eoiintrymen to im- 
molate them in their very boats ; and hefore our native soil should be polluted by 
a foreign foe, if tbey succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass be- 
fore them, raze every house, contend lo the last for every inch of ground ; and 
the last spot on which the hope of freedom should desert me, that spot I would 
make my grave ! What I cannot do, I leave a legacy to my country, because X 
feel conscious that my death were unprofitable, and all hopes of liberty extinct, 
the moment a French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that I 
should see my country imdt r the hands of a foreign power. If the French should 
come as a foreign enemy. Oh ! juy countrymen I meet them on the shore with a 
torch in one hand and a sword in the other ; ■ receive them with all the destruc- 
tion of war ; immolate them in their boats, before our native soil shall be polluted 
by a foreign foe ! If they succeed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn 
every blade of grass before them as tbey advance— raze every house ; and if you 
are driven to the centre of your country, collect your provisions, your property, 
your wives and your daughters ; form a circle around them, fight while but two 
men are Itft ; and when but one i-emains, let that man set fire to the pile, and 
release himself, and the families of his fallen coimtrymen, from the tyranny of 
France. 

" My lamp of life is nearly expired— my race is finished : the grave opens to 
receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request then, at parting from the 
world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for as no 
man, who knows my motives, dare vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance 
asperse them : li t them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb re- 
main uniuscribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my character." 

15 



lYO BEAUTIES OF 

that scathe and scorch the soul — that penetrate to the vital 
seat of happiness — and blast it, never again to put forth bud 
or blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of 
pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the depths 
of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, apparently- 
unconscious of the world around her. She carried within 
her an inward wo that mocked at all the blandishments of 
friendship, and " heeded not the song of the charmer, charm 
he never so wisely." 

The person who told me her story had seen her at a mas- 
querade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretched- 
ness more striking and painful than to meet it iu such a 
scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joy- 
less, where all around is gay— to see it dressed out in the 
trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and wo-begone, ns 
if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momen- 
tary forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through the 
splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstrac- 
tion, she sat herself down on the steps of an orchestra, and 
looking about for some time with a vacant air, that showed 
her insensibility to the garjsh scene, she began, with the 
capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive 
air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this occasion it 
was so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of 
wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent around 
her, and melted every one into tears. 

The storj^ of one so true and so tender could not but ex- 
cite great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. 
It completely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his 
addresses to her, and thought that one so true to the dead 
could not but prove affectionate to the living. She declined 
his attentions, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed 
by the memory of her former lover. He, however, persist- 
ed in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness but her es- 
teem. He was assisted by her conviction of his worth, and 
her sense of her own destitute and dependent situation, for 
she was existing on the kindness of friends. In a word, he 
at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with the 
solemn assurance, that her heart was unalterably another's. 

He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of 



WASHINGTON lAVlNQ. 171 

scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She 
was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to 
be a happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent and de- 
vouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. 
She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless decline, and at 
length sunk inter the grave, the victim of a broken heart.* 



A WRECK AT SEA. 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at & 
distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the monotony of 
the surrounding expanse attracts attention.. It proved to be 
the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; 
for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some 
of the crew had fastened themselves to the spar, to prevent 
their being washed off by the waves. There was no trace 
by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The 
wreck had evidently drifted about for many months ; clus- 
ters of shell fish had fastened about it, and long sea weeds 

* It was on her, says our Author, that Moore, the distinguished Irish Poet, 
composed the following lines : 

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 

And lovei's around her are sighing ; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, ' 

For her heart in his grave is lying. 

She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains^ 

Every note which he lov'd awaking — 
Ah I httle they think, who delight in her strains, 

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking J 

He had lived for his love— for his country he died. 
They wei-e all that to life had entwined him — 

Nor soon shall the tears of his counti-y be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 

Oh ! make her a grave where th^ sun beams rest, 

When they promise a glorious morrow ; 
They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, 

Ttorn her own lov'd island of sorrow I 



172 BEAUTIES OF 

flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the crew 1 
Their struggle has long been over — they have gone down 
amidst the roar of the tempest — their bones lie whitening 
among the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like the 
waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell the story 
of their end. What sighs have been wafted after that shipl 
what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! 
How often has the mistress, the wife, the mother, poured 
over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this 
rover of the deep ! How has expectation darkened into 
anxiety — anxiety into dread — and dread into despair ! Alas ! 
not one memento shall ever return for love to cherish. All 
that shall ever be known, is, that she sailed from her port, 
*' and was never heard of more !" 

The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dis- 
mal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the even- 
ing, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began 
to look wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of 
those sudden storms that will sometimes break in upon the 
serenity of a summer voyage. As we sat round the dull 
light of a lamp in the cabin, that made the gloom more 
ghastly, every one had his tale of shipwreck and disaster. 
I was particularly struck with a short one related by the 
captain. 

" As I was sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship, across 
the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs that 
prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible for us to see 
far ahead even in the day-time ; but at night the weather 
was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at 
twice the length of the ship. I kept lights at the mast head, 
and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, 
which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The 
wind was blowing a smacking* breeze, and we were going 
at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave 
the thrilling alarm of 'a sail-a-head !' — it was scarcely 
uttered before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, 
at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were 
all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck • 
her just a-mid-ships. The force, the size, and weight of our 
vessel bore her down below the waves ; we passed over her 



WASHINGTON IRVING* 173 

and were hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck 
was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three 
half naked wretches rushing from her cabin ; they just 
started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the 
waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. 
The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all fur- 
ther hearing. I shall never forget that cry! it was some 
time before we could put the ship about, she was under such 
head-way. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to 
the place where the smack had anchored. We cruised 
about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired signal 
guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any sur- 
vivors : but all was silent — we never saw or heard any thing 
of them more." 



Land' 

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of 
*' land !" was given from the mast head. None but those 
who have experienced it, can form an idea of the delicious 
throng of sensations which rush into an American's bosom, 
when he first comes in sight of Europe. There is a volume 
of associations with the very name. It is the land of pro- 
mise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has 
heard, or on v/hich his studious years have pondered. 

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all 
feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like 
guardian giants along the coast ; the headlands of Ireland, 
stretching out into the channel ; the Welsh mountains, tower- 
ing into the clouds; all were objects of intense interest. 
As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred the shores with • 
a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight on neat cottages, 
with their trim shrubberies and green grass plots. I saw 
the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the 
taper spire of "a village church rising from the brow of a 
neio-hbouring hill — all were characteristic of England. 

The tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship was 
enabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged with 
people; some idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of 

15* 



174 BEAUTIES OF 

friends or relatives. I could distinguish the merchant to 
whom the ship was consigned. I knew him by his calcu- 
lating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust into 
his pockets ; he was whistling thoughtfully, and walking to 
and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the 
crowd, in deference of his temporary importance. There 
were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged be- 
tween the shore and the ship, as friends happened to recog- 
nize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman 
of humble dress, but interesting demeanour. She was lean- 
ing forward from among the crowd; her eye hurried over 
the ship as it neared the shore, to catch some wished-for 
countenance. She seemed disappointed and agitated ; when 
I heard a faint voice call her name. It was from a poor 
sailor, who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the 
sympathy of every one on board. When the weather was 
fine, his messmates had spread a mattress for him on deck 
in the shade, but of late his illness had so increased, that he 
had taken to his hammock, and only breathed a wish that 
he might see his wife before he died. He had been helped 
on deck as we came up the river, and was now leaning 
against the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, 
so ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affection 
did not recognize him. But at the sound of his voice, her 
eye darted on his features ; it read, at once, a whole volume 
of sorrow ; she clasped her hands, uttered a faint shriek, and 
stood wringing them in silent agony. 



WASHINGT6N IRVING. 175 



GENIUS. 

It is interestina: to notice how some minds seem almost 
to create themselves, springing up under every disadvan- 
tage, and working their solitary but irresistible way through 
a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight in disap- 
pointing the assiduities of art, with which it would rear legi- 
timate dulness to maturity; and to glory in the vigour and 
luxuriance of her chance productions. She scatters the 
seeds of genius to the winds, and though some may perish 
among the stony places of the world, and some be choked 
by the thorns and brambles of early adversity, yet others 
will now and then strike root even in the clefts of the rock, 
struggle bravely up into sunshine, and spread over their 
sterile birth-place all the beauties of vegetation. 



A CONTRAST. 

I WAS yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice 
the manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, 
that there was the least pretension where there was the most 
acknowledged title to respect. I was particularly struck, 
for instance, with the family of a nobleman of high rank, 
consisting of several sons and daughters. Nothing could 
be more simple aiaJ uu-cissumliig man men' appearcuice. 
They generally came to church in the plainest equipage, and 
often on foot. The young ladies would stop and converse 
in the kindest manner with the peasantry, caress the chil- 
dren, and listen to the stories of the humble cottagers. 
Their countenances were open and beautifully fair, with an 
expression of high refinement, but, at the same time, a frank 
cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. Their brothers 
were tall and elegantly formed. They were dressed fashion- 
ably, but simply; with strict neatness and propriety, but 
without any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole de- 



176 BEAUTIES Of* 

meanour was easy and natural, with that lofty grace, and 
noble frankness, which bespeak free-born souls that have 
never been checked in their growth by feelings of inferiority. 
There is a healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never 
dreads contact and communication with others, however 
humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensi- 
tive, and shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to see 
the manner in which they would converse with the peasant- 
ry about those rural concerns and field-sports, in which the 
gentlemen ©f this country so much delight. In these con- 
versations, there was neither haughtiness on the one part, 
nor servility on the other ; and you were only reminded 
of the difference of rank by the habitual respect of the pea- 
sant. 

In contrast to these, was the family of a wealthy citizen 
who had amassed a vast fortune; and, having purchased 
the estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in the neigh- 
bourhood, was endeavouring to assume all the style and dig- 
nity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The family always 
come to church en prince. They were rolled majestically 
along in a carriage emblazoned with arms. The crest glit- 
tered in silver radiance from every- part of the harness 
where a crest could possibly be placed. A fat coachman in 
a three-cornered hat, richly laced, and a flaxen wig, curling 
close round his rosy face, was seated on the box, with a 
sleek Danish dog beside him. Two footmen, in gorgeous 
liveries, with huge bouquets, and gold-headed canes, lolled 
behind. The carriage rose and sunk on its long springs 
— with peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champ- 
ed their ^its, arched llieir necks, and glanced their eyes more 
proudly than common horses ; either because they had got 
a little of the family feeling, or were reined up more tightly 
than ordinary. 

I could not but admire the style with which this splendid 
pageant was brought up to^ the gate of the churchyard. 
There was a vast effect produced at the turning of an anr^le 
of the wall ;— a great smacking of the whip ; 'straining and 
scrambling of the horses ; glistening of harness, and flash- 
mg of wheels through gravel. This was the moment of 
triumph and vain glory to the coachman. The horses were 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 177 

urged and checked until they were fretted into a foam. They 
threw out their feet in a prancing trot, dashing about pebbles 
at every step. The crowd of villagers, sauntering quietly 
to church, opened precipitately to the right and left, gaping 
in vacant admiration. On reaching the gate, the horses 
were pulled up with a suddenness that produced an imme- 
diate stop, and almost threw them on their haunches. 

There was an extraordinary hurry of the footmen to 
alight, open the door, pull down the steps, and prepare every 
thing for the descent on earth of this august family. The 
old citizen first emerged his round red face from out the 
door, looking about him with the pompous air of a man ac- 
customed to rule on 'Change, and shake the Stock Market 
with a nod. His consort, a fine, fleshy, comfortable dame, 
followed him. There seemed, I must confess, but little pride 
in her composition. She was the picture of a broad, honest, 
vulgar enjoyment. The world went well with her, and she 
liked the world. She had fine clothes, a fine house, a fine 
carriage, fine children, every thing was fine about her ; it 
was nothing ^ut driving about, and visiting and feasting. 
Life was to her a perpetual revel ; it was one long Lord 
Mayor's day. 

Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They 
certainly were handsome ; but had a supercilious air, that 
chilled admiration, and disposed the spectator to be critical. 
They were ultra-fashionable in dress ; and, though no one 
could deny the richness of their decorations, yet their ap- 
propriateness might be questioned amidst the simplicity of a 
country church. They descended loftily from the carriage, 
and moved up the line of peasantry with a step that seemed 
dainty of the soil it trod on. They cast an excursive glance 
around, that passed coldly over the burly faces of the pea- 
santry, until they met the eyes of the nobleman's family, 
when their countenances immediately brightened into smiles, 
and they made the most profound and elegant courtesies ; 
which were returned in a manner that showed they were 
but slight acquaintances. 

I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen, 
who came to church in a dashing curricle, with outriders. 
They were arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all 



178 BEAUTIES OF 

that pedantry of dress which marks the man of questiona- 
ble pretensions to style. They kept entirely by themselves, 
eyeing every one askance that came near them, as if mea- 
suring his claims to respectability ; yet they were without 
conversation, except the exchange of an occasional cant 
phrase. They even moved artificially; for their bodies, in 
compliance with the caprice of the day, had been disciplined 
into the absence of all easo and freedom. Art had done 
every thing to accomplish them as men of fashion, but na- 
ture had denied them the nameless grace. They were vul- 
garly shaped, like men formed for the common purposes of 
life, and had that air of supercilious assumption which is 
never seen in the true gentleman. 

I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of these 
two families, because I considered them specimens of what 
is often to be met with in this country — the unpretending 
great, and the arrogant little. I have no respect for titled 
rank, unless it be accompanied with true nobility of soul ; 
but I have remarked in all countries where artificial distinc- 
tions exist, that the very highest classes are always the most 
courteous and unassuming. Those who are well assured of 
their own standing, are least apt to trespass on that of others; 
whereas, nothing is so offensive as the aspirings of vul- 
garity, which thinks to elevate itself by humiliating its neigh- 
bour. 

As I have brought these families into contrast, I must no- 
tice their behaviour in church. That of the nobleman's 
family was quiet, serious, and attentive. Not that they ap- 
peared to have any fervour of devotion, but rather a respect 
for sacred things, and sacred places, inseparable from good 
breeding. The others, on the contrary, were in a perpetual 
flutter and whisper ; they betrayed a continual consciousness 
of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of a 
rural congregation. 

The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to 
the service. He took the whole burden of. family devotion 
upon himself, standing bolt upright and uttering the responses 
with a loud voice that might be heard all over the church. 
It was evident that he was one of those thorough church 
and king men, who connect the idea of devotion and loyalty; 



^ WASHINGTON IRVIN©. 179 

who consider the Deity, somehow or other, of the govern- 
ment party, and religion " a very excellent sort of thing, 
that ought to be countenanced and kept up." 

When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more 
by way of example to the lower orders, to show them, that, 
though so great and wealthy. Tie was not above being reli- 
gious ; as I have seen a turtle-fed Alderman swallow pub- 
licly a basin of charity soup, smacking his lips at every 
mouthful, and pronouncing it " excellent food for the poor." 

When the service was at an end, I was curious to witness 
the several exits of my groups. The young noblemen and 
their sisters, as the day was fine, preferred strolling home 
across the fields, chatting with the country people as they 
went. The others departed as they came, in grand parade. 
Again were the equipages wheeled up to the gate. There 
was again the smacking of whips, the clattering of hoofs, 
and the glittering of harness. The horses started off almost 
at a bound; the villagers again hurried to right and left; 
the wheels threw up a cloud of dust ; and the aspiring family 
was wrapt out of sight in a whirlwind. 



LETTER 

PROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

To Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his High- 
ness the Bashaw of Tripoli, 

Sweet, O Asem ! is the memory of distant friends ! Like 
the mellow ray of a departing sun, it falls tenderly yet sadly 
on the heart. Every hour of absence from my native land 
rolls heavily by, like the sandy wave of the desert ; and the 
fair shores of my country rise blooming to my imagination, 
clothed in the soft illusive charms of distance. 1 sigh, yet 
no one listens to the sigh of the captive : I shed the bitter 



180 BEAUTIES OP 

tear of recollection, but no one sympathises in the tear of 
the turbaned stranger ! — Think not, however, thou brother 
of my soul, that I complain of the horrors of my situation; 
think not that my captivity is attended with the labours, the 
chains, the scourges, the insults, that render slavery, v/ith 
us, more dreadful than the pangs of hesitating, lingering 
death. Light, indeed, are the restraints on the personal 
freedom of thy kinsman ; but who can enter into the afflic- 
tions of the mind ? who can describe the agonies of the 
heart 1 They are mutable as the clouds of the air ; they 
are countless as the waves that divide me from my native 
country. 

I have, of late, niiy dear Asera, laboured under an incon- 
venience singularly unfortunate, and am reduced to a di- 
lemma most ridiculously embarrassing. Why should I hide 
it from the companion of my thoughts, the partner of my 
sorrows and my joys 7 Alas! Asem, thy friend Mustapha, 
the invincible captain of a ketch, is sadly in want of a pair 
of breeches ! Thou wilt, doubtless smile, O most grave 
Mussulman, to hear me indulge in such ardent lamentations 
about a circumstance so trivial, and a want apparently so 
easy to be satisfied : but little canst thou know of the mov- 
tificalions attending my necessities, and the astonishing diffi- 
culty of supplying them. Honoured by the smiles and at- 
tentions of the beautiful ladies of this city, who have fallen 
in love with my whiskers and my turban; — courted by the 
bashaws and the great men, who delight to have me at their 
feasts; the honour of my company eagerly solicited by 
every fiddler v/ho gives a concert ; think of my chagrin at 
being obliged to decline the host of invitations that dally 
overwhelm me, merely for want of a pair of breeches! 
Oh, Allah ! Allah ! that thy disciples could come into the 
world all be-feathered like a bantam, or with a pair of lea- 
ther breeches like the wild deer of the forest ; surely, my 
friend, it is the destiny of man to be for ever subjected to 
petty evils, which, however trifling in appc.arance, prey in 
silence on this little pittance of enjoyment, and poison these 
moments of sunshine, which might otherwise be consecrated 
to happiness. 

The want of a garment, thou wilt say, is easily supplied ; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 181 

and thou mayest suppose need only be mentioned, to be 
remedied at once by any tailor of the land. Little canst 
thou conceive the impediments which stand in the way of 
my comfort, and still less art thou acquainted with the pro- 
digious great scale on which every thing is transacted in ■ 
this country. The nation moves majestically slow and 
clumsy in the most trivial affairs, like the unwieldy elephant 
which makes a formidable difficulty of picking up a straw 1 
When I hinted my necessities to the officer who has charge 
of myself and my companions, I expected to have been 
forthwith relieved; but he made an amazingly long face — 
told me that we were prisoners of state — that we must there- 
fore be clothed at the expense of the government ; that as 
no provision has been made by the Congress for an emer- 
gency of the kind, it was impossible to furnish me with a 
pair of breeches, until all the sages of the nation had been 
convened to talk over the matter, and debate upon the expe- 
diency of granting my request. Sword of the immortal 
Khalid, thought I, but this is great! — this is truly sublime! 
All the sages in an immense logocracy assembled together, 
to talk about my breeches ! — Vain mortal that I am ! I 
cannot but own I was somewhat reconciled to the delay which 
must necessarily attend this method of clothing me, by the 
consideration that if they made the affair a national act, my 
" name must of course be embodied in history," and myself 
and my breeches flourish to immortality in the annals of this 
mighty empire! 

" But pray, sir," said I, " how does it happen that a mat- 
ter so insignificant should be erected into an object of such 
importance as to employ the representative wisdom of the 
nation 1 and what is the cause of their talking so much about 
a trifle !" — " Oh," replied the officer, who acts as our slave- 
driver ; " it all proceeds from economy. If the government 
did not spend ten times as much money in debating whether 
it was proper to supply you with breeches as the breeches 
themselves would cost, the people, who govern the bashaw 
and his divan, would straightv/ay begin to complain of their 
liberties being infringed — the national finances squandered 
— not a hostile slang-whanger throughout the logocracy but 
would burst forth like a barrel of combustion — and ten 

16 



182 . BEAUTIES OF 

chances to one but the bashaw and the sages of his divan 
would ail be turned out of office together. My good Mussel- 
man," continued he, " the administration have the good of 
the people too much at heart to trifle with their pockets ; and 
they would sooner assemble and talk away ten thousand 
dollars than expend fifty silently out of the treasury — such 
is the wonderful spirit of economy that pervades every 
branch of this government." " But," said I, " how is it pos- 
sible they can spend money in talking : surely words cannot 
be the current coin of this country V — " Truly," cried he, 
smiling, " your question is pertinent enough, for words 
indeed often supply the place of cash among us, and many 
an honest debt is paid in promises ; but the fact is, the grand 
bashaw and the members of Congress, or grand talkers of 
the nation, either receive a yearly salary or are paid by the 
day." — " By the nine hundred tongues of the great beast in 
Mahomet's vision, but the murder is out ! it is no wonder 
these honest men talk so much about nothing, when they are 
paid for talking like day-labourers." " You are mistaken," 
said my driver ; " it is nothing but economy." 

I remained silent for some minutes, for this inexplicable 
word economy always discomfits me ; — and when I flatter 
myself I have grasped it, it slips through my fingers like a 
jack-o'lantern. I have not, nor perhaps ever shall acquire, 
sufficient of the philosophic policy of this government, to 
draw a proper distinction between an individual and a nation. 
If a man was to throw away a pound in order to save a 
beggarly penny, and boast at the same time of his economy, 
I should think him on a par with the fool in the fable of Al- 
fangi ; who, in skinning a flint worth a farthing, spoiled a 
knife worth fifty times the sum, and thought he had acted 
wisely. The shrewd fellow would doubtless have valued 
himself much more highly on his economy, could he have 
known that his example would one day be followed by the 
bashaw of America, and the sages of his divan. 

This economic disposition, my friend, occasions much 
fighting of the spirit, and innumerable contests of the tongue 
in this talking assembly. Wouldst thou believe it ? they 
were actually employed for a whole week in a most stren- 
uous and eloquent debate about patching up a hole in the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 183 

wall in the room appropriated to their meetings 1 A vast 
profusion of nervous argument and pompous declamation 
was expended on this occasion. Some of the orators, I am 
told, being rather waggishly inclined, were most stupidly- 
jocular on the occasion ; but their waggery gave great of- 
fence, and was highly reprobated by the more weighty part 
of the assembly ; who hold all wit and humour in abomi- 
nation, and thought the business in hand much too solemn 
and serious to be treated lightly. It was supposed by some 
that this affair would have occupied a whole winter, as it 
was a subject upon which several gentlemen spoke who had 
never been known to open their lips in that place except to 
say yes and no. — These silent members are by way of 
distinction denominated orator mums, and are highly valued 
in this country on account of their great talents for silence; 
— a qualification extremely rare in a logocracy. 

Fortunately for the public tranquillity, in the hottest part 
of the debate, when two rampant Virginians, brim full of 
logic and philosophy, were measuring tongues, and syllo- 
gistically cudgelling each other out of their unreasonable 
notions, the president of the divan, a knowing old gentleman, 
one night slyly sent a mason with a hod of mortar, who in 
the course of a few minutes closed up the hole, and put a 
final end to the argument. Thus did this wise old gentle- 
man, by hitting on a most simple expedient, in all proba- 
bility, save his country as much money as would build a 
gun-boat, or pay a hireling slang-whanger for a whole 
volume of words. As it happened, only a few thousand^ 
dollars were expended in paying these men, who are deno- 
minated, I suppose in derision, legislators. 

Another instance of their economy I relate with pleasure, 
for I really begin to feel a regard for these poor barbarians. 
They talked away the best parts of a whole winter before 
they could determine not to expend a few dollars in purchas- 
ing a sword to bestow on an illustrious warrior : yes, Asem, 
on that very hero who frightened all our poor old women and 
young children at Derne, and M\y proved himself a greater 
man than the mother that bore him.* Thus, my friend, 

* General Eaton, 



184 BEAUTIES OF 

is the whole collective wisi^.om of this mighty logocracy em- 
ployed in somniferous debates about the most trivial affairs ; 
as I have sometimes seen a Herculean mountebank exerting 
all his energies in balancing a straw upon his nose. Their 
sages behold the minutest object with the microscopic eyes 
of a pissmire ; mole-hills swell into mountains, and a grain 
of mustard-seed will set the whole ant-hill in a hubbub. 
Whether this indicates a capricious vision, or a diminutive 
mind, I leave thee to decide ; for my part I consider it as 
another proof of the great scale on which every thing is 
transacted in this country. 

I have before told thee that nothing can be done without 
consulting the sages of the nation, who compose the assem- 
bly called the Congress. This prolific body m,ay not im- 
properly be called the " mother of inventions ;" and a most 
fruitful mother it is, let me tell thee, though its children are 
generally abortions. It has lately laboured with what was 
deemed the conception of a mighty navy. — All the old 
women and the good wives that assist the bashaw in his 
emergencies hurried to head-quarters to be busy, like mid- 
wives, at the delivery. — All was anxiety, fidgeting, and 
consultation ; when after a deal of groaning and struggling, 
instead of formidable first-rates and gallant frigates, out 
crept a litter of sorry little gun-boats. These are most piti- 
ful little vessels, partaking vastly of the character of the 
grand bashaw, who has the credit of begetting them ; being- 
flat shallow vessels that can only sail before the wind ; — 
must always keep in with the land ; — are continually foun- 
dering or running on shore ; and in short, are only fit for 
smooth water. Though intended for the defence of the 
maritime cities, yet the cities are obliged to defend them ; 
and they require as much nursing as so many rickety little 
bantlings. They are, however, the darling pets of the 
grand bashaw, being the children of his dotage, and perhaps 
from their diminutive size and palpable weakness, are called' 
the " infant navy of America." The art that brought them 
into existence was almost deified by the majority of the 
people as a grand stroke of economy. — By the beard of 
Mahomet, but this word is truly inexplicable ! 

To this economic body therefore was I advised to address 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 185 

my petition, and humbly to pray that the august assembly 
of sages would, in the plenitude of their wisdom and the 
magnitude of their powers, munificently bestow on an un- 
fortunate captive a pair of cotton breeches ! " Head of the 
immortal Amrou," cried I, " but this would be presumptuous 
to a degree : — What ! after these worthies have thought 
proper lo leave their country naked and defenceless, and 
exposed to all the political storms that rattle without, can I 
expect that they will lend a helping hand to comfort the ex- 
tremities of a solitary captive?" My exclamation was only 
answered by a smile, and 1 was consoled by the assurance 
that, so far from being neglected, it was ever}^ way probable 
my breeches might occupy a whole session of the divan, 
and set several of the longest heads together by the ears. 
Flattering as was the idea of a whole nation being agitated 
about my breeches, yet I own I was somewhat dismayed at 
the idea of remaining in querpo, until all the national gray- 
beards should have made a speech on the occasion, and 
given their consent to the measure. The embarrassment 
and distress of mind which I experienced were visible in my 
countenance, and my guard, who is a man of infinite good- 
nature, immediately suggested, as a more expeditious plan 
of supplying my wants, a benefit at the theatre. Though 
profoundly ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to his propo- 
sition, the result of which I shall disclose to thee in another 
letter. 

Fare thee well, dear Asem ; in thy pious prayers to our 
great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's return ; and 
when thou numberest up the many blessings bestowed on 
thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy gratitude that he 
has cast thy nativity in a land where there is no assembly 
of legislative chatterers ;— no great bashaw, who bestrides 
a gun-boat for a hobby-horse; — where the v/ord economy is 
unknow^n ; — and where an unfortunate captive is not obliged 
to call upon the whole nation to cut him out a pair of 
breeches. 

16* 



186 BEAUTIES OP 



A warlike Portrait of the great Peter — and how General Von Pof- 
fenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir. 

Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have I 
shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyvesant 
under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the grim tran- 
quillity of awful expectation ; but now the war-drum rumbles 
from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its thrilling note, and 
the rude clash of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of 
coming troubles. The gallant warrior starts from soft re- 
pose, from golden visions, and voluptuous ease ; where, in 
the dulcet "piping time of peace," he sought sweet solace 
after all his toils. No more in beauty's siren lap reclined, 
he weaves fair garlands for his lady's brows ; no more en- 
twines with flowers his shining sword ; nor through the live- 
long lazy summer's day, chants forth his lovesick soul in 
madrigals. To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous 
lute ,• doffs from his brawny back the robe of peace, and 
clothes his pampered limbs in panoply of steel. O'er his 
dark brow, where late the myrtle waved — where wanton 
roses breathed enervate love — he rears the beaming casque 
and nodding plume; grasps the bright shield, and shakes 
the ponderous lance ; or mounts with eager pride the fiery 
steed, and burns for deeds of glorious chivalry. 

But soft, worthy reader ! I would not have you imagine, 
that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with iron, 
existed in the city of New Amsterdam. This is but a lofty and 
gigantic mode in which heroic writers always talk of war, 
thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect ; equipping 
our warriors with bucklers, helmets, and lances, and such 
like outlandish and obsolete weapons, the like which per- 
chance they had never seen or heard of; in the same man- 
ner that a cunning statuary arrays a modern general or an 
admiral in the accoutrements of a Caesar or an Alexander. 
The simple truth then of all this oratorical flourish is this — 
that the valiant Peter Stuyvesant, all of a sudden, found it 
necessary to scour his trusty blade, which too long had 
rusted in its scabbard, and prepare himself to undergo the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. • 187 

hardy toils of war, in which his mighty soul so much de- 
lighted. 

Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagination. 
• — or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still hangs 
wp in the famil}^ mansion of the Stuyvesants, arrayed in all 
the terrors of a true Dutch General. His regimental coat 
of German blue, gorgeously decorated with a goodly show 
of large brass buttons, reaching from his waistband to his 
chin. The voluminous skirts turned up at the corners and 
separating gallantly behind, so as to display the seat of a 
sumptuous pair of brimstone coloured trunk breeches, a grace- 
ful style still prevalent among the warriors of our day, and 
which is in conformity to the custom of ancient heroes, who 
scorned to defend themselves in rear. His face rendered 
exceeding terrible and warlike by a pair of black mustachios; 
his hair strutting out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear- 
locks, and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist ; a 
shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and a. 
little, but fierce cocked hat, stuck with a gallant aiid fiery 
air over his left eye. Such was the chivalric port of Peter 
the Headstrong ,• and when he made a sudden halt, planted 
himself firmly on his solid supporter, with his wooden leg 
inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order to strengthen 
his position, his right hand grasping a gold-headed cane, his 
left resting upon the pummel of his sword; his head dress- 
ing spiritedly to the right with a most appalling and hard- 
favoured frown upon his brow — he presented altogether one 
of the most commanding, bitter looking and soldierlike 
figures that ever strutted upon canvass. Proceed we now to 
inquire the cause of this warlike preparation. 

The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the south 
or Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the chronicles 
of the reign of William the Testy. These encroachments, 
having been endured with that heroic magnanimity which 
is the corner stone, or according to Aristotle, the left hand 
neighbour of true courage, had been repeated and wickedly 
aggravated. 

The Swedes who were of that class of cunning pretenders 
to Christianity, who read the Bible upside down, whenever 
it interferes with their interests, inverted the golden maxim ; 



18B BEAUTIES Of' 

and when their neighbour suffered them to smite him on the 
one cheek, they generally smote him on the other alsa 
whether turned to them or not. Their repeated aggressions, 
had been among the numerous sources of vexation that con- 
spired to keep the irritable sensibilities of Wilhelmus Kieft 
in a constant fever ; and it \vas only owing to the unfortu- 
nate circumstance that he had always a hundred things to 
do at once, that he did not take such unrelenting vengeance 
as their offences merited. But they had now a chieftain of 
a different character to deal with ; and 4hey were soon 
guilty of a piece of treachery, that threw his honest blood 
in a ferment and precluded all further sufferance. 

Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden, 
beingr either deceased or removed, for of this fact some un- 

o , . . . 

certainty exists, was succeeded by Jan Risingh, a gigantic 
Swede ; and v/ho, had he not been rather knock-kneed and 
splay-footed, might have served for the model of a Samson 
or a Hercules. He w^as no less rapacious than mighty, and 
withal as crafty as he was rapacious ; so that, in fact, there 
is very little doubt, had he lived some four or five centuries 
before, he would have been one of those wicked giants, wh'o 
took such a cruel pleasure in pocketing distressed damsels, 
when gadding about in the world ; and locking them up in 
enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of linen, or any 
other convenience. In consequence of which enormities, 
they fell under the high displeasure of chivalry, and all true 
loyal, and gallant knights, were instructed to attack and 
slay outright any miscreant they might happen to find above 
six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason that the race of 
large men is nearly extinct, and the generations of latter 
ages so exceedingly small. 

No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office 
than he immediately cast his eyes upon the im])ortant post 
of Fort Casimer, and formed the righteous resolution of 
taking it into his possession. The only thing that remained 
to consider was the mode of carrying his resolution into ef- 
fect; and here I must do him the justice to say, that he ex- 
hibited a humanity rarely to be met with among leaders, 
and which I have never seen equalled in modern times, ex- 
cepting among the English in their glorious affair at Copen- 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 18® 

hagen. Willing to spare the effusion of blood, and the 
miseries of open warfare, he benevolently shunned every 
thing like avowed hostility or regular siege, and resorted to 
the less glorious but more merciful expedient of treachery. 

Under pretence, therefore, of paying a neighbourly visit 
to General Von Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort Casi- 
mir, he m.ade requisite preparation, sailed in great state up 
the Delaware, displayed his flag with the most ceremonious 
punctilio, and honoured the fortress with a royal salute pre- 
vious to dropping anchor. The unusual noise awakened a 
veteran Dutch sentinel, who was napping faithfully at his 
post, and who having suffered his match to go out, contriv- 
ed to return the compliment, by discharging his rusty mus- 
ket with the spark of a pipe, which he borrowed from one 
of his comrades. The salute indeed would have been an- 
swered by the guns of the fort, had they not been unfortun- 
ately out of order, and the magazine deficient in ammuni- 
tion — -accidents to which forts have in all ages been liable, 
and which were the more excusable in the present instance, 
as Fort Casimir had only been erected about two years, and 
General Von Poffenburgh, its mighty commander, had been 
fully occupied with matters of much greater importance. 

Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteoi:is reply to his 
salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew its 
commander was marvellously delighted with these little 
ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts of ho- 
mage paid unto his greatness. He then landed in great 
state, attended by a suit of thirty men — a prodigious and 
vainglorious retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settle- 
ment, and in those days of primitive simplicity; and to the 
full as great an army as generally swells the pomp and 
marches in the rear of our frontier commanders at the pre- 
sent day. 

The number in fact might have awakened suspicion, had 
not the mind of the great Von Poffenburgh been so com- 
pletely engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that 
he had not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he 
considered the concourse of Risingh's followers as a com- 
pliment to himself — so apt are great men to stand between 



190 BEAUTIES Ofi' 

themselves and the sun, and completely eclipse the truth by 
their own shadow. 

It may readily be imagined how much General Von Pof- 
fenburgh was flattered by a visit from so august a person- 
age ; his only embarrassment was, how he should receive 
him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest advan- 
tage, and make the most advantageous impression. The 
main guard was ordered immediately to turn out, and the 
arms and regimentals (of which the garrison possessed full 
half a dozen suits) v/ere equally distributed among the sol- 
diers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a coat intended for 
a small man, the skirts of which reached a little below his 
waist, the buttons were between his shoulders, and the 
sleeves halfway to his wrists, so that his hands looked like 
a couple of huge spades ; and the coat not being large enough 
to meet in front, w.'is linked together by loops, made of a 
pair of red worsted garters. Another had an old cocked 
hat, stuck on the back of his head, and decorated with a 
bunch of cock's tails-- — a third had a pair of rusty gaiters, 
hanging about his heels — while a fourth, who was a short 
duck-legged little Trojan, was equipped in a huge pair of 
the general's cast off breeches, which he held up with one 
hand, while he grasped his firelock with the other. The 
rest were accoutred in similar style, excepting three grace- 
less ragamuffins, who had no shirts, ai*d but a pair and a 
half of breeches between tbera, wherefore they were sent to 
the black-hole to keep them oi.it of view. There is nothing 
in which the talents of a prudent commander are more 
completely testified than in thus setting matters off to the 
greatest advantage; and it is for this reason that our fron- 
tier posts of the present day (that of Niagara for example,) 
display their best suit of regimentals on the back of the sen- 
tinel who stands in sight of travellers. 

His men being thus gallantly arrayed — those who lacked 
muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man 
being ordered to tuck in his shirt tail and pull up his bro- 
gues. General Von PofRmburgh first took a sturdy draught 
of foaming ale, which, like the magnanin:ious More of More- 
hall, was his invariable practice on all great occasions ; 
which done he put himself at their head, ordered the pi.^e 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 191 

planks which served as a draw bridge, to be laid down, and 
issued forth from his castle, like a mighty giant, just refresh- 
ed with wine. But when the two heroes met, then began a 
scene of warlike parade, and chivalric courtesy that beg- 
gars all description. Risingh, who, as I before hinted, was 
a shrewd, cunning politician, and had grown grey much 
before his time, in consequence of his craftiness, saw at one 
glance the ruling passion of the great Von Poffenburgh, and 
humored him in all his valorous fantasies. 

Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front 
of each other ; they carried arms, and they presented arms; 
they gave the standing salute and the passing salute : — they 
rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, and they wa- 
ved their colours — they faced to the left, and they faced to 
the right, and they faced to the right about :— they wheeled 
forward, and they wheeled backward, and they wheeled into 
echelon : — they, marched and they counter-marched by 
grand divisions, by single divisions, and by subdivisions, — 
by platoons, by sections, and by files, — -to quick time, in 
slow time, and in no time at all : for, having gone through 
all the evolutions of two great armies, including the eighteen 
manoeuvres of Dundas ; having exhausted all that they could 
recollect or imagine of military tactics, including sundry 
strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were 
never seen before or since, excepting among certain of our 
newly raised militia — -the two great commanders and their 
respective troops came at length to a dead halt, completely 
exhausted by the toils of war. Never did two valiant train 
band captains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the re- 
nowned tragedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other 
heroical and fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-look- 
ing, duck-legged heavy- heeled myrmidons, with more glory 
and self-admiration. 

These military compliments being finished. General Von 
Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visiter, with great cere- 
mony, into the fort ; attended him throughout the fortifica- 
tions ; showed him the horn-works, crown-works, half- 
moons, and various other out works ; or rather the places 
where they ought to be erected ; and where they might be 
erected if he pleased ; plainly demonstrating that it was a 



192 BEAUTIES OF 

place of " great capability," and though at present but a 
little redoubt, yet that it evidentl}'- was a formidable fortress 
in embryo. This survey over, he next had the whole gar- 
rison put under arms, exercised and reviewed, and conclud- 
ed by ordering the three bridewell birds to be hauled out of 
the black hole, brought up to the halberts, and soundly flog- 
ged for the amusement of his visiter and to convince him 
that he was a great disciplinarian. 

There is no error more dangerous than for a commandei 
to make known the strength, or, as in the present case, the 
weakness of his garrison ; this will be exemplified before 1 
have arrived to the end of my present story, which thus 
carries its moral, like a roasted goose his pudding, in the 
very middle. The cunning Risingh, while he pretended to 
be struck dumb outright, with the puissance of the great 
Von Poffenburgh, took silent note of the incompetency of 
his garrison, of which he gave a hint to his trusty follow- 
ers, who tipped each other the wink, and laughed most ob- 
streperously — in their sleeves. 

The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, the 
party adjourned to the table ; for among his other great 
qualities, the general was remarkably addicted to huge en- 
tertainments, or rather carousals ; and in one afternoon's 
campaign would leave more dead men on the field than ever 
he did in the whole course of his military career. Many 
bulletins of these bloodless victories do still remain on re- 
cord ; and the whole province was once thrown in amaze 
by the return of one of his campaigns; wherein it was stat- 
ed, that though, like Captain Bobadil, he had only twenty 
men to back him, yet, in the short space of six months, he 
had conquered and utterly annihilated sixty oxen, ninety 
hogs, one hundred sheep, ten thousand cabbages, one thou- 
sand bushels of potatoes, one hundred and fifty kilderkins of 
small beer, two thousand seven hundred and thirty-five 
pipes, seventy-eight pounds of sugar plums, and forty bars 
of iron, besides sundry small meats, game, poultry, and gar- 
den stuffs. An achievement unparalleled since the days of 
Pantagruel and his all-devouring army ; and which showed 
that it was only necessary to let bellipotent Von Poffenburgh 
and his garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in a lit- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 193 

tie while tliey would breed a famine, and starve all the in- 
habitants* 

No sootier, thej'efore, had the general received the first 
intimation of the visit of Governor Risingh, than he ordered 
a great dinner to be prepared^ and privately sent out a de- 
tachment of his most experienced veterans to rob all the hen 
roosts in the neighbourhood, and lay the pigsties under con- 
tribution — a service to which they had been long inured, 
and which they discharged with such incredible zeal and 
promptitude, that the garrison table groaned under the 
weight of their spoils. 

I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the va- 
liant Von PofFenburgh, as he presided at the head of the 
banquet. It was a sight worth beholding :— there he sat, in 
his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like that fa- 
mous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues he did 
most ably imitate ; telling astonishing stories of his hair 
breadth adventures and heroic exploits, at which, though all 
his auditors knew them to be most incontinent and outrage- 
ous gasconades, yet did they cast up their eyes in admira- 
tion, and utter many interjections of astonishment. Nor 
could the general pronounce any thing that bore the remot- 
est resemblance to a joke but the stout Risingh would strike 
bis brawny fist upon the table, till every glass rattled again, 
throwing himself back in his chair, and uttering gigantic 
peals of laughter, swearing most horribly it was the best 
joke he ever heard in his life. Thus all was rout and re- 
velry and hideous carousal within Fort Casimir ; and so 
lustily did Von Poffenburgh ply the bottle that in less than 
four short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, 
who all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, 
dead drunk in singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drink- 
ing patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a 
Welch pedigree, or a plea at Chancery. 

No sooner did things come to this pass than the crafty 
Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept themselves 
sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck and heels, 
and took formal possession of the fort, and all its dependen- 
cies, in the name of Queen Christina of Sweden ; adminis- 
tering, at the same time, an oath of allegiance to all the 

17 



194 BEAUTIES OF 

Dutch soldiers who could be made sober enough to swallow 
it. Risingh then put the fortifications in order, appointed 
his discreet and vigilant friend Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, 
water-drinking, Swede, to the command ; and departed, bear- 
ing with him this truly amiable garrison and their puissant 
commander, who, when brought to himself by a sound drub- 
bing, bore no small resemblance to a " deboshed fish," or 
bloated sea m.onster, caught upon dry land. 

The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent 
the transmission of intelligence to New- Amsterdam ; for 
much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his stratagem, he 
dreaded the vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuy vesant, whose 
name spread as much terror in the neighbourhood as did 
whilome that of the unconquerable Scanderberg among his 
scurvy enemies the Turks. 



THE 
MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE, 

A COLLOQUY IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

"^There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind, in which 
we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek 
some quiet haunt, where we may indulge our reveries, and 
build our air castles undisturbed.v In such a mood, I was 
loitering about the old gray cloisters of Westminster Abbey, 
enjoying that luxury of wandering thought which one is apt 
to dignify with the name of reflection ; when suddenly an 
irruption of madcap boys from Westminster school, playing 
at foot-ball, broke in upon the monastic stillness of the place, 
making the vaulted passages and mouldering tombs echo 
with their merriment. I sought to take refuge from their 
noise by penetrating still deeper into the solitudes of the pile, 
and applied to one of the vergers for admission to the libra- 
ry. He conducted me through a portal rich with the crumb- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 195 

ling sculpture of former ages, which opened upon a gloomy 
passage leading to the Chapter-house, and the chamber in 
which Doomsday Book is deposited. Just within the pas- 
sage is a small door on the left. To this the verger ap- 
plied a key; it was double locked, and opened with some 
difficulty, as if seldom used. We now ascended a dark nar- 
row staircase, and passing through a second door, entered 
the library. 

I found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof supported 
by massive joists of old English oak. It was soberly lighted 
by a row of Gothi(i windo\vs at a considerable height from 
the floor, and which apparently opene^d upon the roofs of the 
cloisters. An ancient picture of some reverend dignitary of 
the church, in his robes, hung over the fire-place. Around 
the hall and in a small gallery were the books, arranged in 
carved oaken cases. They consisted principally of old 
polemical writers, and were much more worn by time than 
use. In^ihe centre of the library was a solitary table, with 
two or three books on it, an inkstand without ink, and a [ew 
pens parched by long disuse. The place seemed fitted for 
quiet study and profound meditation. It was buried deep 
among the massive walls of the abbey, and shut up from the 
tumult of the world. I could only hear now and then the 
shouts of the schoolboys faintly swelling from the cloisters, 
and the sound of a bell tolling for prayers, that echoed so- 
berly along the roofs of the abbey. By degrees the shouts 
of merriment grew fainter and fainter, and at length died 
away. The bell ceased to toll, and a profound silence reign- 
ed through the dusky hall. 

I had taken down a little thick quarto, curiously bound in 
parchment, with brass clasps, and seated myself at the table 
in a venerable elbow' chair. Instead of reading, however, I 
was beguiled by the solemn monastic air, and lifeless quiet 
of the place, into a train of musing. As I looked around 
upon the old volumes in their mouldering covers, thus ranged 
on the shelves, and apparently never disturbed in their^^re- 
pose, I could not but consider the library a kind of literary 
catacomb, where authors, like mummies, are piously entomb- 
ed, and left to blacken and moulder in dusty oblivion. 

How much, thought I, has each of these volumes, now 



196 BEAUTIES OF 

thrust aside with such indifiereiice, cost some aching head! 
how many weary days ! how many sleepless nights ! How 
have their authors buried themselves in the solitude of cells 
and cloisters ; shut themselves up from the face of man, and 
the still more blessed face of nature ; and devoted themselves 
to painful research and intense reflection ! And all for what ? 
to occupy an inch of dusty shelf- — to have the title of their 
works read now and then in a future age, by some drowsy 
churchman or casual straggler like myself; and in another 
age to be lost, even in remembrance. Such is the amount 
of this boasted immortality. A mere temporary rumour, a 
local sound ; like the tone of that bell which has just tolled 
among these towers, filling the ear for a moment — lingering 
transiently in echo — -and then passing a'way like a thing 
that was not 1 



BOOK MAKING. 

Theeu was one dapper little gentleman in bright coloured 
clothes, with a chirping gossiping expression of counte- 
nance, who had all the appearance of an author on good 
terms with his bookseller. After considering him atten- 
tively, I recognized in him a diligent getter up of miscella- 
neous works, which bustled off well with the trade. I was 
curious to see how he manufactured his wares. He made 
more stir and show of business than any of the others; dip- 
ping into various books, fluttering over the leaves of manu- 
scripts, taking a morsel out of one, a morsel out of another, 
" line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there 
a little." The contents of his book seemed to be as hete- 
rogeneous as those of the witches' caldron in Macbeth. It 
was here a finger and there a thumb, toe of frog and blind 
worm's sting, with his own gossip poured in, like " baboon's 
blood," to make the medley " slab and good." 

After all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition be 
implanted in authors for wise purposes ; may it not be the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 197 

way in which Providence has taken care that the seeds of 
knowledge and wisdom shall be preserved from age to age, 
in spite of the inevitable decay of the works in which they 
were first produced 1 We see that nature has wisely, though 
whimsically, provided for the conveyance of seeds from 
clime to clime, in the maws of certain birds ; so that ani- 
mals, which, in themselves, are little better than carrion, 
and apparently the lawless plunderers of the orchard and 
the corn field, are, in fact. Nature's carriers to disperse and 
perpetuate her blessings. In like manner, the beauties and 
fine thouo;hts of ancient and obsolete authors are cauo-ht up 
by these flights of predatory writers, and cast forth again to 
flourish and bear fruit in a remote and distant tract of time. 
Many of their works, also, undergo a kind of metempsy- 
chosis, and spring up under new forms. What was formerly 
a ponderous history, revives in the shape of a romance — an 
old legend changes into a modern play— and a sober philo- 
sophical treatise furnishes the body for a whole series of 
bouncing and sparkling essays. Thus it is in the clearing 
of our American woodlands ; where we burn down a forest 
of stately pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks start up in their 
place : and we never see the prostrate trunk of tree moul- 
dering into soil, but it gives birth to a whole tribe of fungi. 

Let us not, then, lament over the decay and oblivion into 
which ancient writers descend ; they do but submit to the 
great law of nature, which declares that all sublunary shapes 
of matter shall be limited in their duration, but which de- 
crees, also, that their elements shall never perish. Genera- 
tion after generation, both in animal and vegetable life, passes 
away, but the vital principle is transmitted to posterity, and 
the species continue to flourish. Thus, also, do authors 
beget authors, and having produced a numerous progeny, in 
a, good old age they sleep with their fathers, that is to say, 
with the authors who preceded them — and from whom they 
had stolen. 

Whilst 1 was indulging in these rambling fancies, I ha4 
leaned my head against a pile of reverend folios. Whe- 
ther it was owing to the soporific emanations from these 
works ; or to the profound quiet of the room ; or to the 
lassitude arising from much v/andcring ; or to an unlucky 

17* 



198 . BEAUTIES OF 

habit of napping at improper times and places, with which 
I am grievously afflicted, so it was, that I fell into a doze. 
Still, however, my imagination continued busy, and indeed 
the same scene remained before my mind's eye, only a little 
changed in some of the details. 1 dreamt that the chamber 
was still decorated with the portraits of ancient authors, but 
the number was increased. The long tables had disappear- 
ed, and in place of the sage magi, I beheld a ragged, thread- 
bare throng, such as may be seen plying about the grekt 
repository of cast-off clothes, Monmouth Street. When- 
ever they seized upon a book, by one of those incongruities 
common to dreams, methought it turned into a garment of 
foreign or antique fashion, with which they proceeded to 
equip themselves. I noticed, however, that no one pre- 
tended to clothe himself from any particular suit, but took 
a sleeve from one, a cape from another, a skirt from a third, 
thus decking himself out piecemeal, while some of his ori- 
ginal rags would peep out from among his borrowed finery. 
There was a portly, rosy, well-fed parson, whom I ob- 
served ogling several mouldy polemical writers through an 
eye-glass. He soon contrived to slip on the voluminous 
mantle of one of the old fathers, and having purloined the 
gray beard of another, endeavoured to look exceedingly 
wise ; but the smirking common place of his countenance 
set at nought all the trappings of wisdom. One sickly 
looking gentleman was busied embroidering a very flimsy 
garment with gold thread drawn out of several old court 
dresses of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Another had 
trimmed himself magnificently from an illuminated manu- 
script, had stuck a nosegay in his bosom, culled from "The 
Paradise of dainty devices," and having put Sir Philip Sid- 
ney's hat on one side of his head, strutted off with an ex- 
qui-oite air of vulgar elegance. A third, who was but of 
puny dimensions, had bolstered himself out bravely with the 
spoils from several obscure tracts of philosophy, so that he 
had a very imposing front ; but he was lamentably tattered 
in rear, and 1 perceived that he had patched his small-clothes 
with scraps of parchment from a Latin author. 

There were some well dressed gentlemen, it is true, who 
only helped themselves to a gem or so, which sparkled 



/ 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 199 

among their own ornaments, without edipsing them. Some, 
too, seemed to contemplate the costumes of the old writers, 
merely to imbibe their principles of taste, and to catch their 
air and spirit ; but I grieve to say, that too many were apt 
to array themselves from top to toe, in the patchwork man- 
ner I have mentioned. I shall not omit to speak of one 
genius, in drab breeches and gaiters, and an Arcadian hat, 
who had a violent propensity to the pastoral, but whose ru- 
ral wanderings had been confined to the classic haunts of 
Primrose Hill, and the solitudes of the Reo;ent's Park. He 
had decked himself in wreaths and ribands from all the old 
pastoral poets, and hanging his head on one side, went about 
with a fantastical lack-a-daisical air, " babbling about green 
fields." But -the personage that most struck my attention 
was a pragmatical old gentleman, in clerical robes with a 
remarkably large and square, but bald head. He entered 
the room wheezing and puffing, elbowed his way through 
the throng, with a look of sturdy self-confidence, and hav- 
ing laid hands upon a thick Greek quarto, clapped it upon 
his head, and swept majestically away in a formidable friz- 
zled wioj. 

In the height of this literary masquerade, a cry suddenly 
resounded from every side, of " Thieves ! thieves !" I look- 
ed, and lo ! the portraits about the wall became animated ! 
The old authors thrust out, first a head, then a shoulder 
from the canvass, looked down curiously, for an instant, 
upon the motley throng, and then descended, with fury in 
their eyes, to claim their rifled property. The scene of 
scampering and hubbub that ensued baffles all description. 
The unhappy culprits endeavoured in vain to escape with 
the plunder. On one side might be seen half a dozen old 
monks, stripping a modern professor; on another, there was 
sad devastation carried into the ranks of modern dramatic 
writers. Beaumont and Fletcher, side by side, raged round 
the field like Castor and Pollux, and sturdy Ben Jonson 
enacted more wonders than when a volunteer with the army 
in Flanders. As to the dapper httle compiler of farragos, 
mentioned some time since, he had arrayed himself in as 
many patches and colours as Harlequin, and there was as 
fierce a contention of claimants about him, as about the dead 



00 BEAUTIES OF 

body of Patroclus. I was grieved to see many men, to 
whom I had been accustomed to look upon with awe and 
reverence, fain to steal off with scarce a rag to cover their 
nakedness. Just then my eye was caught by the pragmati- 
cal old gentleman in the Greek frizzled wig, who was scram- 
bling away sore affrighted with half a score of authors in 
full cry after him. They were close upon his haunches; 
in a twinkling off went his wig ; at every turn some strip of 
raiment was peeled away; until in a few moments, from his 
domineering pomp, he shrunk into a little, pursy, " chopp'd 
bald shot," and made his exit with only a few tags and bags 
fluttering at his back. 

There was something so ludicrous in the catastrophe of 
this learned Theban, that I burst into an immoderate fit of 
laughter, which broke the whole illusion. The tumult and 
the scufHe were at an end. Tiie chamber resumed its usual 
appearance. The old authors shrunk back into their pic- 
ture-frames, and hung in shadowy solemnity along the walls. 
In short, I found myself wide awake in my corner, with the 
whole assemblage of bookworms gazing at me with aston- 
ishment. Nothing of the dream had been real but my burst 
of laughter, a sound never before heard in that grave sanc- 
tuary, and so abhorrent to the ears of wisdom, as to electri- 
fy the fraternity. 

The librarian now stepped up to me, and demanded 
whether I had a card of admission. At first I did not com- 
prehend him, but I soon found that the library was a kind 
of literary " preserve," subject to game laws, and that no 
one must presume to hunt there without special license and 
permission. In a word, I stood convicted of being an ar- 
rant poacher, and was glad to make a precipitate retreat, 
lest I should have a whole pack of authors let loose upon 
me. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 201 



A DUTCH SETTLER'S DREAM. 

And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream — and lo, the good 
St. Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees in that 
self-same wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to 
children ; and he came and descended hard by where the 
heroes of Communipaw had made their late repast. And 
the shrewd Van Kortlandt knew him by his broad hat, his long 
pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to the figure on 
the brow of the Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the 
fire, and he sat himself down and smoked ; and as he smok- 
ed, the smoke from his pipe ascended into the air and spread 
hke a cloud overhead. And the sage Oloffe bethought him, 
and he hastened and climbed up to the top of one of the 
tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread over a great ex- 
tent of country ; and as he considered it more attentively, 
he fancied that the great volume of smoke assumed a varie- 
ty of marvellous forms, where in dim obscurity he saw 
shadowed out palaces and domes and lofty spires, all of 
which lasted but for a moment, and then faded away, until 
the whole rolled off, and nothing but the green woods were 
left. And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he 
twisted it in his hatband, and laying his finger beside his 
nose, gave the astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant 
look ; then mounting his wagon, he returned over the tree 
tops and disappeared. 

And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly in- 
structed, and he aroused his companions and related to 
them his dream : and interpreted it, that it was the will of 
St. Nicholas that they should settle down and build the city 
there. And that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast 
should be the extent of the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of 
its smoke should spread over a vast extent of country. 
And they all with one voice assented to this interpretation 
excepting Mynheer Tenbroeck, who declared the meaning 
to be that it should be a city wherein a little fire should oc- 
casion a great smoke, or in other words, a very vapouring 
little city— both which interpretations have strangely come 
to pass. 



202 BEAUTIES OF 



THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE. 

In the course of an excursion through one of the remote 
counties of England, I had struck into one of those cross 
roads that lead through the more secluded parts of the coun- 
try, and stopped one afternoon at a village, the situation of 
which was beautifully rural and retired. There was an air 
of primitive simplicity about its inhabitants, not to be found 
in the villages which lie on the great coach roads. I deter- 
mined to pass the night there, and having taken an early 
dinner, strolled out to enjoy the neighbouring scenery. 

My ramble, as is usually the case with travellers, soon 
led me to the church, which stood at a little distance from 
the village. Indeed, it was an object of some curiosity, its 
old tower being completely over nin with ivy, so that only 
here and there a jutting buttress, an angle of gray wall, or 
a fantastically carved ornament, peered through the verdant 
covering. It was a lovely evening. The early part of the 
day had been dark and showery, but in the afternoon it had 
cleared up ; though sullen clouds still hung over head, yet 
there was a broad tract of golden sky in the west, from 
which the setting sun gleamed through the dripping leaves, 
and lit up all nature into a melancholy smile. It seemed 
like the parting hour of a good Christian, smiling on the 
sins and sorrows of the world, and giving, in the sere- 
nity of his decline, an assurance that he will rise again in 
glory. 

I had seated myself on a half sunken tombstone, and was 
musing, as one is apt to do at this sober-thoughted hour, on 
past scenes and early friends — on those who were distant 
and those who were dead — and indulgino; in that kind of 
melancholy fancying, which has in it something sweeter 
even than pleasure. Every now and then, the stroke of a 
bell from the neighbouring tower fell on my ear ; its tones 
were in unison with the scene, and, instead of jarring, chim- 
ed in with my feelings ; and it was some time before I re- 
collected, that it must be toUinsj the knell of some new tenant 
of the tomb. 

Presently I saw a funeral train moving across the village 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 203 

green ; it wound slowly along a lane ; was lost, and re-ap- 
peared through the breaks of the hedges, until it passed the 
place where I was sitting. The pall was supported by young 
girls dressed in white ; and another, about the age of seventeen, 
walked before, bearing a chaplet of white flowers ; a token 
that the deceased was a young and unmarried female. The 
corpse was followed by the parents. Thej^ were a venera- 
ble couple of the better order of peasantry. The father 
seemed to repress his feelings ; but his fixed eye, contract- 
ed brow, and deeply-furrowed face, showed the struggle 
that was passing within. His wife hung on his arm, and 
wept aloud with the convulsive bursts of a mother's sor- 
row. 

I followed the funeral into the church. The bier was 
placed in the centre aisle, and the chaplet of white flowers, 
with a pair of white gloves, were hung over the seat which 
the deceased had occupied. 

Every one knows the soul-subduing pathos of the funeral 
service ; for who is so fortunate as never to have followed 
some one he has loved to the tomb ? but when performed 
over the remains of innocence and beauty, thus laid low in 
the bloom of existence — what can be more affecting ? At 
that simple, but most solemn consignment of the body to 
the grave — " Earth to earth — ashes to ashes— dust to dust !" 
- — the tears of the youthful companions of the deceased flow- 
ed unrestrained. The father still seemed to struggle with 
his feelings, and to comfort himself with the assurance, that 
the dead are blessed which die in the Lord ; but the mother 
only thought of her child as a flower of the field cut down 
and withered in the midst of its sweetness : she was like 
Rachel, " mourning over her children, and would not be 
comforted." 

On returning to the inn I learnt the whole story of the 
deceased. It was a simple one, and such as has often been 
told. She had been the beauty and pride of the village. 
Her father had once been an opulent farmer, but was re- 
duced in circumstances. This was an only child and brought 
up entirely at home, in the simplicity of rural life. She had 
been the pupil of the village pastor, the favourite of his little 
flock. The good man watched over her education with pa- 



204 BEAUTIES OP 

ternal care ; it was limited, and suitable to the sphere in 
which she was to move ; for he only sought to make her 
an ornament to her station in life, not to raise her above it. 
The tenderness and indulgence of her parents, and the ex- 
emption from all ordinary occupations, had fostered a natu- 
ral grace and delicacy of character, that accorded with the 
fragile loveliness of her form. She appeared like some ten- 
der plant of the garden, blooming accidentally amid the 
hardier natives of the fields. 

The superiority of her charms was felt and acknowledged 
by her companions, but without envy ; for it was surpassed 
by the unassuming gentleness and winning kindness of her 
manners. It might be truly said of her : 

This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
Ran on the gveen-sward : nothing she does or seems, 
But smacks of something greater than herself; 
Too noble for this place." 

The village was one of those sequestered spots, which 
still retain some vestiges of old English customs. It had its 
rural festivals and holy day pastimes, and still kept up some 
faint observance of the once popular rites of May. These, 
indeed, had been promoted by its present pastor ; who was 
a lover of old customs, and one of those simple Christians 
that think theii mission fulfilled by promoting joy on earth 
and good will among mankind. Under his auspices the 
may-pale stood from year to year in the centre of the vil- 
lage green : on May- day it was decorated with garlands 
and streamers ; and a queen or lady of the May was ap- 
pointed, as in former times, to preside at the sports, and dis- 
tribute the prizes and rewards. The picturesque situation of 
the village, and the fancifulness of its rustic fetes, would 
often attract the notice of casual visiters. Among these, one 
May day was a young officer, whose regiment had been re- 
cently quartered in the neighbourhood. He was charmed 
with the native taste that pervaded this village pageant ; 
but above all with the dawning loveliness of the queen of 
May. It was the village favourite, who was crowned with 
flowers, and blushing and smiling in all the beautiful confu- 
sion of girlish diffidence and delight. The artlessness of 
rural habits enabled him readily to make her acquaintance; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 205 

he gradually won his way into her intimacy ; and paid his 
court to her in that unthinking way in which young officers 
are too apt to trifle with rustic simphcity. 

There was nothing in his advances to startle or alarm, 
pe never even talked of love : but there are modes of mak- 
ing it more eloquent than language, and which convey it 
subtilely and irresistibly into the heart. The beam of the 
eye, the tone of the voice, the thousand tendernesses which 
emanate from every word, and look, and action— these form 
the true eloquence of love, and can almost be felt and un- 
derstood, but never described, j Can we wonder that they 
should readily win a heart young, guileless, and susceptible 1 
As to her, she loved almost unconsciously ; she scarcely in- 
quired what was the growing passion that was absorbing 
every thought and feeling or what were to be its consequen- 
ces. She, indeed, looked not to the future. When present, 
his looks and words occupied her whole attention ; when 
absent, she thought, but of what had passed at their recent 
interview. She would wander with him through the green 
lanes and rural scenes of the vicinity. He taught her to 
see new beauties in nature ; he talked in the language of 
polite and cultivated life, and breathed into her ear the 
witcheries of romance and poetry. 

Perhaps there could not have been a passion, between the 
sexes, more pure than this innocent girl's. The gallant 
figure of her youthful admirer, and the splendour of his mili- 
tary attire, might at first have charmed her eye ; but it was 
not these that had captivated her heart. Her attachment 
had something in it of idolatry. She looked up to him as 
to a being of a superior order. She felt in his society the 
enthusiasm of a mind naturally delicate and poetical, and 
now first awakened to a keen perception of the beautiful 
and grand. Of the sordid distinctions of rank and fortune 
she thought nothing ; it was the difference of intellect, of 
demeanour, of manners, from those of the rustic society to 
which she had been accustomed, that elevated him in her 
opinion. She would listen to him with charmed ear and 
downcast look of mute delight, and her cheek would mantle 
with enthusiasm ; or if ever she ventured a shy glance of 

18 



206 BEAUTIES OP 

timid admiration, it was as quickly withdrawn, and she would 
sigh and blush at the idea of her comparative un worthiness. 
Her lover was equally impassioned ; but his passion was 
mingled with feelings of a coarser nature. He had begun 
the connexion in levity ; for he had often heard his brother 
officers boast of their village conquests, and thought some 
triumph of the kind necessary to his reputation as a man of 
spirit. But he was too full of youthful fervour. His heart 
had not yet been rendered sufficiently cold and selfish by a 
wandering and dissipated life : it caught fire from the very 
flame it sought to kindle ; and before he was aware of the 
nature of his situation, he became really in love. 

What was he to do ? There were the old obstacles which 
so incessantly occur in these heedless attachments. His 
rank in life — -the prejudices of titled connexions — his de- 
pendence upon a proud and unyielding father — all forbade 
him to think of matrimony : — but when he looked down upon 
this innocent being, so tender and confiding, there was a 
purity in her manners, a blamelessness in her life, and a be- 
seeching modesty in her looks that awed down every licen- 
tious feeling. In vain did he try to fortify himself by a 
thousand heartless examples of men of fashion ; and to chill 
the glow of generous sentiment, with that cold derisive levity 
with which he had heard them talk of female virtue; when- 
ever he came into her presence, she was still surrounded by 
that mysterious, but impressive charm of virgin purity, in 
whose hallowed sphere no guilty thought can live. 

The sudden arrival of orders for the regiment to repair 
to the continent completed the confusion of his mind. He 
remained for a short time in a state of the most painful irre- 
solution ; he hesitated to communicate the tidings, until the 
day of marching was at hand ,• when he gave her the intel- 
ligence in the course of an evening ramble. 

The idea of parting had never before occurred to her. It 
broke at once upon her dream of felicity; she looked upon 
it as a sudden and insurmountable evil, and wept with the 
guileless simplicity of a child. He drew her to his bosom, 
and kissed the tears from her soft cheek ; nor did he meet 
with a repulse ; for there are moments of mingled sorrow 
and tenderness, which hallow the caresses of affection. He 



WASHINGTON IRVING. * 207 

was naturally impetuous ; and the sight of beauty, appa- 
rently yielding in his arms ; the confidence of his power 
over her ; and the dread of losing her for ever ; all con- 
spired to overwhelm his better feelings — he ventured to pro- 
pose that she should leave her home, and be the companion 
of his fortunes. 

He was quite a novice in seduction, and blushed and fal- 
tered at his own baseness ; but so innocent of mind was his 
intended victim, that she was at first at a loss to comprehend 
his meaning ; and why she should leave her native village 
and the humble roof of her parents ? When at last the na- 
ture of his proposal flashed upon her pure mind, the effect 
was withering. She did not weep — she did not break forth 
into reproach — she said not a word — but she shrunk back 
aghast as from a viper ; gave him a look of anguish that 
pierced to his very soul ; and clasping her hands in agony, 
fled, as if for refuge, to her father^s cottage. 

The oflicer retired, confounded, humiliated, and repentant. 
It is uncertain what might have been the result of the con- 
flict of his feelings, had not his thoughts been diverted by 
the bustle of departure. New scenes, new pleasures, and 
new companions, soon dissipated his self-reproach, and sti- 
fled his tenderness ; yet, amidst the stir of camps, the revel- 
ries of garrisons, the array of armies, and even the din of 
battles, his thoughts would sometimes steal back to the scene 
of rural quiet and village simplicity — the white cottage — 
the footpath along the silver brook and up the hawthorn 
hedge, and the little village maid loitering along it, leaning 
on his arm, and listening to him with eyes beaming with un- 
conscious affection. 

The shock which the poor girl had received, in th^' de- 
struction of all her ideal world, had indeed been cruel. 
Paintings and hysterics, had at first shaken her tender 
frame, and were succeeded by a settled and pining melan- 
choly. She had beheld from her window the march of the 
departing troops. She had seen her faithless lover borne 
off, as if in triumph, amidst the sound of drum and trum- 
pet, and the pomp of arms. She strained a last aching 
gaze after him, as the morning sun glittered about his 
figure, and his plume waved in the breeze : he passed away 



208 BEAUTIES OF 

like a bn'o-ht vision from her sight and left her all in dark- 
ness. 

It would be trite to dwell on the particulars of her after- 
story. It was, like other tales of love, melancholy. She 
avoided society, and wandered out alone in the walks she 
had most frequented with her lover. She sought, like the 
stricken deer, to weep in silence and loneliness, and brood 
over the barbed sorrow that rankled in her soul. Some- 
times she would be seen late of an evening sitting in the 
porch of the village church ; and the milk-maids, returning 
from the fields, would now and then overhear her, singing 
some plaintive ditty in the hawthorn walk. She became 
fervent in her devotions at church : and as the old people 
saw her approach, so wasted away, yet with a hectic bloom, 
and that hallowed air which melancholy diffuses round the 
form, they would make way for her, as for a thing spiritual, 
and, looking after her, would shake their heads in gloomy 
foreboding. 

She felt a conviction that she was hastening to the tomb, 
but looked forward to it as a place of rest. The silver cord 
that had bound her to existence was loosed, and there seem- 
ed to be no more pleasure under the sun. If ever her gen- 
tle bosom had entertained resentment against her lover, it 
was extinguished. She was incapable of angry passions ; 
and in a moment of saddened tenderness, she penned him 
a farewell letter. It was couched in the simplest language ; 
but touching from its very simplicity. She told him that 
she was dying, and did not conceal from him that his con- 
duct was the cause. She even depicted the sufferings which 
she had experienced ; but concluded with saying, that she 
could not die in peace, until she had sent him her forgiveness 
and her blessing. 

By degrees her strength declined, so that she could no 
longer leave the cottage. She could only totter to the win- 
dow, where, propped up in her chair, it was her enjoyment 
to sit all day and look out upon the landscape. Still she 
uttered no complaint, nor imparted to any one the malady 
that was preying upon her heart. She never even men- 
tioned her lover's name ; but would lay her head on her 
mother's bosom and weep in silence. Her poor parents 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 209 

hung in mute anxiety over this fading blossom of their 
hopes, still flattering themselves that it might again revive 
to freshness, and that the bright unearthly bloom which 
sometimes fl.ushed her cheek might be the promise of return- 
ing health. 

In this way she was seated between them one Sunday 
afternoon ; her hands were clasped in theirs, the lattice was 
thrown open, and the soft air that stole in brought with it 
the fragrance of the clustering honeysuckle which her own 
hands had trained round the window. 

Her father had just been reading a chapter in the Bible : 
it spoke of the vanity of worldly things and of the joys of 
heaven : it seemed to have diffused comfort and serenity 
through her bosom. Her eye was fixed on the distant vil- 
lage church ; the bell had tolled for the evening service ; the 
last villager was lagging into the porch, and every thing 
had sunk into that hallowed stillness peculiar to the day of 
rest. Her parents were gazing on her with yearning hearts. 
Sickness and sorrow, which pass so roughly over some 
faces, had given her's the expression of a seraph's. A 
tear trembled in her soft blue eye. Was she thinking of 
her faithless lover? — or were her thoughts wandering to 
that distant church-yard, into whose bosom she might soon 
be gathered 1 

Suddenly the clang of hoofs was heard — a horseman gal- 
loped to the cottage — he dismounted before the window — 
the poor girl gave a faint exclamation, and sunk back in her 
chair ; — it was her repentant lover ! He rushed into the 
house, and flew to clasp her to his bosom ; but her wasted 
form — her death-like countenance — so wan, yet so lovely 
in its desolation, — smote him to the soul, and he threw him- 
self in an agony at her feet. She was too faint to rise — 
She attempted to extend her trembling hand— her lips mo- 
ved as if she spoke, but no word was articulated — she look- 
ed down upon him with a smile of unutterable tenderness, — 
and closed her eyes for ever ! 

Such are the particulars which I gathered of this village 
story. They are but scanty, and I am conscious have little 
novelty to recommend them. In the present rage also for 
strange incident and high-seasoned narrative, they may ap- 

18* 



210 BEAUTIES OF 

pear trite and insignificant, but they interested me strongly 
at the tinne ; and, taken in connexion with the affecting 
ceremony which I just witnessed, left a deeper impression 
on my mind than many circumstances of a more striking 
nature. I have passed through the place since, and visited 
the church again, from a better motive than mere curiosity. 
It was a wintry evening ; the trees were stripped of their 
foliage ; the church-yard looked naked and mournful, and 
the wind rustled coldly through the dry grass. Ever- 
greens, however, had been planted about the grave of the 
village favourite, and osiers were bent over it to keep the 
turf uninjured. 

The church door was open, and I stepped in. There 
hung the chaplet of flowers and the gloves as on the day of 
the funeral : the flowers were withered, it is true, but care 
seemed to have been taken that no dust should soil their 
whiteness. I have seen many monuments, where art has 
exhausted its powers to awaken the sympathy of the spec- 
tator ; but I have met with none that spoke more touchingly 
to my heart, than this simple, but delicate memento of de- 
parted innocence. 



DOMESTIC SCENE. 

The family meeting v/as warm and aflectionate. As the 
evening was far advanced, the Squire would not permit us 
to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to 
the company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned 
hall. It was composed of different branches of a nume- 
rous family connexion, where there were the usual propor- 
tion of old uncles and aunts, comfortable married dames, 
superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins, half* 
fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding school hoydens. 
They were variously occupied ; some at a round game of 
cards ; others conversing around the fire-place* At one end 
of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 311 

grown up, others of a more tender and budding age, fully 
engrossed by a merry game ; and a prof^jsion of wooden 
horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls about the floor, 
showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, v/ho, having 
frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slum 
her through a peaceful night. 



MASTER SIMON. 

The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the 
humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr, Bracebridge 
always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Si- 
mon. He was a tight brisk Httle man, with the air of an 
arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a 
parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the small pox, with a 
dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn. 
He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drol- 
lery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. 
He was evidently the wit of the family, dealing very much 
in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making in- 
finite merriment by har pings upon old themes ; which, un- 
fortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not 
permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight 
during supper to keep a young girl next him in a continual 
agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reprov- 
ing looks of her mother, who sat opposite. Indeed, he was 
the idol of the younger part of the company, who laugLed 
at every thing he said or did, and at every turn of his coun- 
tenance. I could not wonder at it ; for he must have been 
a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He could 
imitate Punch and Judy ; make an old woman of his hand, 
with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket handkerchief; 
and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the 
young folks were ready to die with laughing. 



212 BEAUTIES OF 



PERSEVERANCE. 



Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps 
on an undeviating course ; and though overwhelmed by bois- 
terous billows, still emerges from the troubled deep, spout- 
ing and blowing with tenfold violence — -so did the inflexible 
Peter pursue, unwavering, his determined career, and rise 
contemptuous above the clamours of the rabble. 



^ A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTHONY THE 
TRUMPETER. 

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his " beloved 
city, in despite even of itself,, he called unto him his trusiy 
Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of 
emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denouncing 
trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country, 
night and day— sounding the alarm along the pastoral bor- 
ders of the Bronx — startling the wild solitudes of Croton — 
arousins the rugged veomanry of Weehawk and Hoboken 
— the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay*; — and the 
brave boys of Tarry town and Sleepy hollow — together 
with all the other warriors of the country round about ; 
charging them one and all, to sling their powder horns, 
shoulder their fowling-pieces, and march merrily down to 
the Manhattoes. 

Now there was nothing'in all the world, the divine sex 
excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better than er- 
rands of this kind. So. just stopping to take a lusty dinner, 
and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well charged with 

* A eorniption of Top paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians M'liich boasted 
of 150 fighting men. See Ogilvie's History. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 213 

heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily from the city gate 
that looked out upon what is at present called Broad-way; 
sounding as usual a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly 
echoes through the winding streets of New-Amsterdam — 
Alas ! never more were they to be gladdened by the melody 
of their favourite trumpeter ! 

It was a dark and stormy night when the good Anthony 
arrived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Harlem 
river) which separates the island of Manna-hata from the 
main land. The wind was high, the elements were in an 
uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the adven- 
turous sounder of brass across the water. For a short time 
he vapoured like an impatient ghost upon the brink, and 
then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his errand, took 
a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore most valorous- 
ly, that he would swim across, en spijt den duyvel (in spite 
of the devil !) and daringly plunged into the stream. — Luck- 
less Anthony ! scarce had he buffeted half-way over, when 
he was observed to struggle violently, as if l^attling with the 
spirit of the waters — instinctively he put his trumpet to his 
mouth, and giving a vehement blast, sunk for ever to the 
bottom ! 

The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn 
of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the glo- 
rious field of Roncesvalles, rung far and wide through the 
country, alarming the neighbours round, who hurried in 
amazement to the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed 
for his veracity, and who had been a witness of the fact, re- 
lated to them the melancholy affair ; with the fearful addi- 
tion (to which I am ^\ow of giving belief,) that he saw the 
duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy 
Anthony by the leg, and drag him beneath the waves. 
Certain it is, the place, with the adjoining promontory, 
which projects into the Hudson, has been called Spijt den 
duyvel or Spiking duyvel ever since, — the restless ghost of 
the unfortunate Anthony still haunts the surrounding solitudes, 
and his trumpet has often been heard by the neighbours, of 
a stormy night, mingling with the howling of the blast. 
Nobody ever attempts to swim over the creek after dark ; 
on the contrary, a bridge has been built to guard against 



214 BEAUTIES OF 

such melancholy accidents in future — and as to moss-bonk- 
ers, they are held in such abhorrence that no true Dutch- 
man will admit them to his table, who loves good fish, and 
hates the devil. 

Such was the end of Anthony Van Corlear — a man de- 
serving of a better fate. He lived roundly and soundly, 
like a true and jolly bachelor, until the day of his death ; 
but though he was never married, yet did he leave behind, 
some two or three dozen children, in different parts of the 
country — fine chubby, brawling flatulent little urchins, from 
whom if legends speak true (and they are not apt to lie,) 
did descend the innumerable race of editors, who people and 
defend this country, and who are bountifully paid by the 
people for keeping up a constant alarm — and making them 
miserable. Would that they inherited the worth, as they 
do the wind, of their renowned progenitor! 



The Grief of Peter Stuynesant. 

The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a 
severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did 
even the invasion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came ruth- 
lessly home to those sweet affections that grow close around 
the heart, and are nourished by its warmest current. As 
some lone pilgrim wandering in trackless wastes while the 
tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary night is 
gathering around, sees stretched, cold and lifeless, his faith- 
ful dog — the sole companion of his journeying — who had 
shared his solitary meal, and so often licked his hand in 
humble gratitude; — so did the generous-hearted hero of the 
Manhattoes contemplate the untimely end of his faithful An- 
thony. He had been the humble attendant of his footsteps — he 
had cheered him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety ; 
and had followed him in loyalty and affection, through many 
a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone for ever 
« — and that too at a moment when every mongrel cur seeni' 
ed skulking from his side, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 215 



The dignified Retirement and mortal Surrender of Peter 
the Headstrong. 

Thus then have 1 concluded this great historical enter- 
prise ; but, before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet re- 
mains to be performed one pious duty. If among the va- 
riety of readers that may peruse this book, there should haply 
be found any of those souls of true nobility, which glow 
with celestial fire, at the history of the generous and the 
brave, they will be anxious to know the fate of the gallant 
Peter Stuyvesant. To gratify one such sterHng heart of 
gold I would go more lengths than to instruct the cold- 
blood curiosity of a whole fraternity of philosophers. 

No sooner had that high mettled cavalier signed the ar- 
ticles of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the 
humiliation of his favourite city, he turned his back on its 
walls, and made a growling retreat to his Bouwery, or 
country-seat, which was situated about two miles off; where 
he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal retire- 
ment. There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he 
had never known amid the distracting cares of government ; 
and tasted the sweets of absolute and uncontrolled authority, 
which his factious subjects had so often dashed with the bit- 
terness of opposition. 

No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city 
— on the contrary, he would always have his great arm- 
chair placed with its back to the wmdows which looked in 
that direction ; until a thick grove of trees planted by his 
own hand grew up and formed a screen that effectually ex- 
cluded it from the prospect. He railed continually at the 
degenerate innovations and improvements introduced by the 
conquerors — forbade a word of their detested language to 
be spoken in his family, a prohibition readily obeyed, since 
none of the household could speak any thing but Dutch — 
and even ordered a fine avenue to be cut down in front of 
his house, because it consisted of English cherry trees. 

The same incessant vigilance that blazed forth wiien he 
had a vast province under his care, now showed itself with 
equal vigour, though in narrower limits. He patrolled with 



216 BEAUTIES OP 

unceasing watchfulness around the boundaries of his little 
territory ; repelled every encroachment with intrepid prompt- 
ness ; punished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard 
or his farm yard with inflexible severity ; and conducted 
every stray hog or cow in triumph to the pound. But to 
the indigent neighbour, the friendless stranger, or the weary 
wanderer, his spacious door was ever open, and his capa- 
cious fire-place, that emblem of his own warm and generous 
heart, had always a corner to receive and cherish them. 
There was an exception to this, I must confess, in case the 
ill-starred applicant was an Englishman or a Yankee; to 
whom, though he might extend the hand of assistance, he 
could never be brought to yield the rites of hospitality. 
Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the east, 
should stop at his door, with his cart load of tin ware or 
wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth like a giant 
from his castle, and make such a furious clattering among 
his pots and kettles, that the vender of " notions'^ was fain 
to betake himself to instant flight. 

His ancient suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the 
brush, were carefully hung up in the state bedchamber, and 
regularly aired the first fair day of every month ; and his 
cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim repose 
over the parlour mantlepiece, forming supporters to a full 
length portrait of the renowned Admiral Von Tromp. In 
his domestic empire he maintained strict discipline, and a 
well organized despotic government; but though his own 
will was the supreme law, yet the good of his subjects was 
his constant object. He watched over, not merely their im- 
mediate comforts, but their morals, and their ultimate wel- 
fare ; for he gave them abundance of excellent admonition, 
nor could any of them complain, that when occasion re- 
quired, he was by any means niggardly in bestowing whole- 
some correction. 

The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demonstra- 
tions of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, which 
are falling into sad disuse among my fellow citizens, were 
faithfully observed in the mansion of Governor Stuyvesant. 
New-year was truly a day of open handed liberality, of 
jocund revelry, and warm-hearted congratulation — when the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 217 

bosom seemed to swell with genial good-fellowship ; and 
the plenteous table was attended with an unceremonious 
freedom, and honest broad-mouthed merriment, unknown in 
these days of degeneracy and refinement. Paas and Pinx- 
ler were scrupulously observed throughout his dominions ; 
nor was the day of St. Nicholas suffered to pass by without 
making presents, hanging the stocking in the chimney, and 
complying with all its other ceremonies. 

Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array 
himself in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his tri- 
umphal entry into New-Amsterdam, after the conquest of 
New-Sweden. This was always a kind of Saturnalia 
among the domestics, when they considered themselves at 
liberty in some measure to say and do what they pleased ; 
for on this day their master was always observed to unbend, 
and become exceedingly pleasant arid jocose, sending the 
old grey-headed negroes on April fools' errands for pigeon's 
milk ; not one of whom but allowed himself to be taken in^ 
and humored his old master's jokes as became a faithful 
and well disciplined dependant. Thus did he reign, happily 
and peacefully on his own land — injuring no man — envy- 
ing no man — -molested by no outward strifes — ^perplexed by 
no internal commotions ; and the mighty monarchs of the 
earth, who were vainly seeking to maintain peace, and pro- 
mote the welfare of mankind, by war and desolation, would 
have done well to have made a voyage to the little island of 
Manna-hatta, and learned a lesson in government from the 
domestic economy of Peter Stuy vesant. 

In process of time, however, the old governor, like all 
other children of mortality, began to exhibit evident tokens 
of decay. Like an aged oak, which, though it long has 
braved the fury of the elements, and still retains its gigantic 
proportions, yet begins to shake and groan with every blast, 
so the gallant Peter, though he still bore the port and sem- 
blance of what he was in the days of his hardihood and chi- 
valry, yet did age and infirmity begin to sap the vigour of 
his frame ; but his heart, that most unconquerable citadel, 
still triumphed unsubdued. With matchless avidity would 
he listen to every article of intelligence concerning. the bat- 
tles between the English and Dutch. Still would his pulse 

19 



218 BEAUTIES OF 

beat high whenever he heard of the victories of De Ruyter ; 
and his countenance lower, and his eyebrows knit, when 
fortune turned in favour of the English. At length, as on 
a certain day, he had just smoked his fifth pipe, and was 
napping after dinner, in his arm chair, conquering the whole 
British nation in his dreams, he was suddenly aroused by a 
fearful ringing of bells, rattling of drums, and roaring of 
cannon, that put all his blood in a ferment. But when he 
learned that these rejoicings were in honour of a great vic- 
tory obtained by the combined English and French fleets 
over the brave De Ruyter and the younger Von Tromp, it 
went so much to his heart, that he took to his bed, and in 
less than three days was brought to death's door by a vio- 
lent cholera morbus ! But even in this extremity he still 
displayed the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Headstrong; 
holding out, to the last gasp, with the most inflexible obsti- 
nacy, against a whole army of old women, who were bent 
upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a true Dutch 
mode of defence, by inundating the seat of war with catnip 
and pennyroyal. 

While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, 
news was brought him, that the brave Ruyter had suffer- 
ed but little loss — had made good his retreat — and meant 
once more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye 
of the old warrior kindled at the words — he partly raised 
himself in bed — a flash of martial fire beamed across his 
visage — he clenched his withered hand as if he felt within 
his gripe that sword which waved in triumph before the 
walls of Fort Christina, and giving a grim smile of exulta- 
tion, sunk back upon his pillow, and expired. 

Thus died Peter Stuyvesant a valiant soldier, a loyal sub- 
ject, an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman — who 
wanted only a, few empires to desolate to have been immor- 
talized as a hero ! 

His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost 
grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied 
of its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last 
sad honours to their good old governor. All his sterling 
qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the 
memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 219 

The ancient burghers contended who should have the privi- 
lege of bearing the pall— the populace strove who should 
walk nearest to the bier — and the melancholy procession 
was closed by a number of gray-headed negroes, who had 
wintered and summered in the household of their departed 
master for the greater part of a century. 

With sad and gloomy countenances, the multitude gath- 
ered round the grave. They dwelt with mournful hearts on 
the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant ex- 
ploits of the brave old worthy. . They recalled with secret 
upbraidings, their own factious oppositions to his govern- 
ment — and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic 
features had never been known to relax, nor his eyes to 
moisten, was now observed to puff a pensive pipe, and the 
big drop to steal down l)is cheek — while he muttered, with 
affectionate accent and melancholy shake of the head — 
" Well den ! — Hard-Koppig Peter ben gone at last." 

His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a 
chapel, which he had piously erected on his estate, and de- 
dicated to St. Nicholas — and which stood on the identical 
spot at present occupied by St. Mark's Church, where his 
tombstone is still to be seen. His estate or Bouwery, as it 
was called, has ever continued in the possession of his descend- 
ants ; who by the uniform integrity of their conduct, and 
their strict adherence to the customs and manners that pre- 
vailed in the " good old times,'^'' have proved themselves 
worthy of their illustrious ancestor. Many a time and oft 
has the farm been haunted at night by enterprising money 
diggers, in quest of pots of gold said to have been buried by 
the old governor — though 1 cannot learn that any of them 
have ever been enriched by their researches — and who is 
there, among my native born fellow citizens, that does not 
remember, when in the mischievous days of his boyhood, 
he conceived it a great exploit to rob " Stuyvesant's orch- 
ard" on a holiday afternoon ? 

At this strong hold of the family may still be seen cer- 
tain memorials of the immortal Peter. His full length por- 
trait frowns in martial terrors from the parlour wall- — -his 
cocked hat and sword still hang up in the best bedroom. 
His brimstone coloured breeches were for a long while sus- 



220 BEAUTIES OF 

pended in the hall, until some years since they occasioned a 
dispute between a new married couple. And his silver 
mounted wooden leg is still treasured up in the store room 
as an invaluable relique. 



MORNING. 

And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in the 
east, and soon the rising sun, enierging from amidst golden 
and purple clouds, shed his blitlv;some rays on the tin wea- 
thercocks of Communipav/. It was that delicious season of 
the year, when nature, breaking from the chilling thraldom 
of old winter, like a blooming damsel from the tyranny of 
a sordid father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand 
charms, into the arms of youthful spring. Every tufted 
copse and blooming grove resounded with the notes of hy- 
meneal love. The very insects, as they sipped the dew that 
gemmed the- tender grass of the meadows, joined in the 
joyous epithalanium — the virgin bud timidly put forth its 
blushes, " the voice of the turtle was heard in the land," 
and the heart of man dissolved away in tenderness. 



THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS HISTORY OF 
NEW -YORK. 

I AM aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous 
very learned and judicious critics, for indulging too fre- 
quently in the bold excursive manner of my favourite He- 
rodotus. And to be candid, I have found it impossible 
always to resist the allurements of those pleasing episodes 
which, like flowery banks and fragrant laowers, beset the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 221 

dusty road of the historian, and entice him to turn aside 
and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But I trust it will 
be found that I have always resumed my staff, and address- 
ed myself to my weary journey with renovated spirits, so 
that both my readers and myself have been benefited by the 
relaxation. 

Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and uniform 
endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observing the requi- 
site unity of History, yet the loose and unconnected manner 
in which many of the facts herein recorded have come to 
hand, rendered such an attempt extremely difficult. This 
difficulty was likewise increased by one of tfie grand objects 
contemplated in my work, which was to trace the rise of 
sundry customs and institutions in this best of cities, and 
to compare them when in the germ of infancy with what 
they are in the present old age of knowledge and improve- 
ment. 

But the chief merit on which I value myself, and found 
my hopes for future regard, is that faithful veracity with 
which I have compiled this invaluable little work ; carefully 
winnowing away the chaff of hypothesis, and discarding 
the tares of fable, which are too apt to spring up and choke 
the seeds of truth and wholesome knowledge. Had I been 
anxious to captivate the superficial throng, who skim like 
swallows over the surface of literature ; or had I been 
anxious to commend my writings to the pampered palates 
of literary epicures — I might have availed myself of the 
obscurity that overshadows the infant years of our city, to 
introduce a thousand pleasing fictions, l^ut I have scrupu- 
lously discarded many a pithy tale and marvellous adven- 
ture, whereby the drowsy air of summer indolence might 
be enthralled ; jealously maintaining that fidelity, gravity, 
and dignity which should ever distinguish the historian. 

19* 



222 BEAUTIES OF 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

I ROSE and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descended 
the flight of steps which lead into the body of the building, 
my eye was caught by the shrine of Edward the Confessor, 
and 1 ascended the small staircase that conducts to it, to 
take from thence a general survey of this wilderness of 
tombs. The shrine is elevated upon a kind of platform, 
and close around it are the sepulchres of various kings and 
queens. From this eminence the eye looks down between 
pillars and funeral trophies to the chapels and chambers be- 
low, crowded with tombs ; where warriors, prelates, cour- 
tiers and statesmen lie mouldering in their " beds of dark- 
ness." Close by me stood the great chair of coronation, 
rudely carved of oak, in the barbarous taste of a remote 
and gothic age. The scene seemed almost as if contrived, 
with theatrical artifice, to produce an effect on the beholder. 
Here was a type of the beginning and the end of human 
pomp and power ; here it was literally but a step from the 
throne to the sepulchre. Would not one think that these 
incongruous mementos had been gathered together as a les- 
son to living greatness ?— to show it, even in the moment of 
its proudest exaltation, the neglect and dishonour to which it 
must soon arrive ; how soon that crown which encircles its 
brow must pass away ; and it must lie dov/n in the dust and 
disgraces of the tomb, and be trampled upon by the feet of 
the meanest of the* multitude. For strange to tell, even the 
grave is here no longer a sanctuary. There is a shocking 
levity in some natures, which leads them to sport with awful 
and hallowed things, and there are base minds, which de- 
light to revenge on the illustrious dead the abject homage 
and grovelling servility which they pay to the living. The 
coffin of Edward the Confessor has been broken open, and 
his remains despoiled of their funeral ornaments ; the scep- 
tre has been stolen from the hand of the imperious Elizabeth, 
and the effigy of Henry the Fifth lies headless. Not a royal 
monument but bears some proof how felse and fugitive is 
the homage of mankind. Some are plundered; some mu- 



Washington irving. 223 

I'.lated ; some covered with ribaldry and insult — 'all more or 
jess outraged and dishonoured! 

The last beams of day were now faintly streaming 
through the painted windows in the high vaults above me ; 
the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapped in the 
obscurity of twilight. The chapels and aisles grew darker 
and darker. The effigies of the kings faded into shadows ; 
the marble figures of the monuments assumed strange shapes 
in the uncertain light ; the evening breeze crept through the 
aisles like the cold breath of the grave ; and even the dis- 
tant footfall of a verger, traversing the Poet's Corner, had 
something strange and dreary in its sound. I slov^^ly re- 
traced my morning's walk, and as \ passed out at the portal 
of the cloisters, the door, closing with a jarring noise behind 
me, filled the whole building with echoes. 

I endeavoured to form some arrangement in my mind of 
the objects 1 had been contemplating, but found they were 
already falling into indistinctness and confusion. Names, 
inscriptions, trophies, had all become confounded in my re- 
collection, though I had scarcely taken my foot from off the 
threshold. What, thought 1, is this vast assemblage of se- 
pulchres but a treasury of humiliation ; a huge pile of reite- 
rated homilies on the emptiness of renown, and the certainty 
of oblivion ! It is, indeed, the empire of death ; his great 
shadowy palace ; where he sits in state, mocking at the re- 
liques of human glory, and spreading dust and forgetfulness 
on the monuments of princes. How idle a boast, after all, 
is the immortality of a name I Time is ever silently turn- 
ing over his pages ; we are too much engrossed by the story 
of the present, to think of the characters and anecdotes that 
gave interest to the past ; and each age is a volume thrown 
aside to be speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes 
Ihe hero of yesterday out of our recollection ; and will, in 
turOj be supplanted "by his successor of to-morrow. 



224 BEAUTIES OF 



MASTER HENRY HUDSON. 

In the ever memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a 
Saturday morning, the five-and-twentieth day of March, old 
style, did that " worthy and irrecoverable discoverer (as he 
has justly been called,) Master Henry Hudson," set sail from 
Holland in a stout vessel called the Half Moon, being em- 
ployed by the Dutch East India, Company, to seek a north- 
west passage to China. 

Henry, (or as the Dutch historians call him, Hendrick) 
Hudson was a seafaring man of renown, who had learned 
to smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Raleigh, and is said to 
have been the first to introduce it into Holland, which gain- 
ed him much popularity in that country, and caused him to 
find great favour in the eyes of their High Mightinesses, the 
lords states-general, and also of the honourable West India 
Company. He was a short, square, brawny old gentle- 
man, with a double chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad cop- 
per nose, which was supposed in those days to have acquired 
its fiery hue from the constant neighbourhood of his tobacco 
pipe. 

He wore a true Andrea Ferrara tucked in a leathern belt, 
and a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his head. He 
was remarkable for always jerking up his breeches when 
he gave out his orders, and his voice sounded not unlike 
the bratiling of a tin trumpet, owing to the number of hard 
north-westers which he had swallowed in the course of his 
seafaring. 

Such was Hendrick Hudson, of vv^hom we have heard so 
much and know so little ; and I have been thus particular 
in his description, for the benefit of modern painters and 
statuaries, that they may represent him as he was ; and not, 
according to their common custom, with modern heroes, 
make them look like Caesar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the 
Apollo of Belvidere. 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 



Master Robert Juet. 



^25 



As chief mate and favourite companion, the commodore 
chose Master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in England. By 
some his name has been spelled Cheunt^ and ascribed to the 
circumstance of his having been the first man that ever 
chewed tobacco; but this T believe to be a mere flippancy; 
more especially as certain of his progeny are living at this 
day, who write their names Juet. Fie was an old comrade 
and early school-mate of the great Hudson, with whom he 
had often played truant and sailed chip boats in a neigh- 
bouring pond, when they were little boys ; from whence it 
is said the commodore first derived his bias towards a sea- 
faring life. Certain it is, that the old people about Lime- 
house declared Robert Juet to be an unlucky urchin, prone 
to mischief, that would one day or other come to the gallows. 

He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a ram- 
bling heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters of the 
world — meeting with more perils and wonders than did Sin- 
bad the sailor, without growing a whit more wise, prudent, 
or ill-natured. Under every misfortune he comforted him- 
self with a quid of tobacco, and the true philosophic maxim, 
that " it will be all the same thing a hundred years hence." 
He was sMUcd in the art of carving anchors and true lovers' 
knots on the bulk-heads and quarter-railings, and was con- 
sidered a great wit on board ship, in consequence of his 
playing pranks on every body around, and now and then 
even making a wr^'- face at old Hendrick, when his back was 
turned. 

To this universal genius we are indebted for many parti- 
culars concerning this voyage, of which he wrote a history, 
at the request of the commodore, who had an unconquera- 
ble aversion to v/ritina; himself, from having received so 
many floggings about it when at school. To supply the 
deficiencies of Master Juet's Journal which is written with 
true log-book brevity, I have availed myself of divers family 
traditions, handed down from my great great grandfather, 
who accompanied the expedition in the capacity of cabin 
boy. 



2^6 BEAUTIES OF 



A Dutch Voyage of Discovery. 

Suffice it then to say, the voyage was prosperous and 
tranquil — the crew being a patient people, much given to 
slumber and vacuity, and but Httle troubled with the disease 
of thinking — a malady of the mind, which is the sure breeder 
of discontent. Hudson had laid in abundance of gia and 
sour-crouty and every man was allowed to sleep quietly at 
his post unless the wind blew. True it is, some slight dis- 
satisfaction was shown on tv/o or three occasions, at certain 
unreasonable conduct of Commodore Hudson. Thus, for 
instance, he forbore to shorten sail M'hen the wind was light, 
and the weather serene, which was considered among the 
most experienced Dutch seamen, as certain loeatker-breeders, 
or prognostics, that the weather would change tx)r the worse. 
He acted, moreover, in direct contradiction to that ancient 
and sage rule of the Dutch navigators, who always took in 
sail at night, put the helm aport, and turned in ; by which 
precaution they had a good night's rest, were sure of know- 
ing where they were the next morning, and stood but little 
chance of running down a continent in the dark. He like- 
wise prohibited the seamen from wearing more than five 
jackets, and six pair of breeches, under pretence of render- 
ing them more alert ; and no man was permitted to go aloft, 
and hand in sails, with a pipe in his mouth, as is the inva= 
riable Dutch custom at the present day. All these griev- 
ances, though they might ruffle for a moment the constitu- 
tional tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but a 
transient impression ; they ate hugely, drank profusely, and 
slept immeasurably; and being under the especial guidance 
of providence, the ship was safely conducted to the coast of 
America ; where, after sundry unimportant touchings and 
standings off and on, she at length, on the fourth day of 
September, entered that majestic bay, which at this day ex- 
pands its ample bosom before the city of New-York, and 
which had never before been visited by any European* 



WASHINGTON IRYING. 227 

LETTER 

PROM MUST4PHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

tTo Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-drive?' to his High- 
ness the Bashaic of Tripoli, 

Though I am often disgusted, my good Asem, with the 
vices and absurdities of the men of this country, yet the 
women afford me a world of amusement. Their Hvely 
prattle is as diverting as the chattering of the red-tailed par- 
rot, nor can the green-headed monkey of Timandi equal 
them in whim and playfulness. But, notwithstanding these 
valuable qualifications, I am sorry to observe they are not 
treated w\\h half the attention bestowed on the before-men- 
tioned animals. These infidels put their parrots in cages 
and chain their monkeys ; but their women, instead of be- 
ing carefully shut up in harems and seraglios, are abandoned 
to the direction of their own reason, and suffered to run 
about in perfect freedom, like other domestic animals : this 
comes, Asem, of ti^eating their women as rational beings, 
and allov/ing them souls. The consequence of this piteous 
neglect may easily be imagined ; — they have degenerated 
into all their native wildness, are seldom to be caught at 
home, and, at an early age, take to the streets and high- 
jways, where they rove about in droves, giving almost as 
much annoyance to the peaceable people as the troops of 
wild dogs that infest our great cities, or the flights of locusts 
that sometimes spread famine and desolation over whole re- 
gions of fertility. 

This propensity to relapse into pristine wildness con- 
vinces me of the untameable disposition of the sex, who 
may indeed be partially domesticated by a long course of 
confinement and restraint, but the moment they are re- 
stored to personal freedom, become wild as the young par- 
trido-e of this country, which, though scarcely half hatched, 
will take to the fields and run about with the shell upon its 
back. 



228 BEAUTIES ©F 

Notwithstanding their wildness, however, they are re- 
markably easy of access, and suffer themselves to be ap- 
proached, at certain hours of the day, without any symp- 
toms of apprehension ; and 1 have even happily succeeded 
in detecting them at their domestic occupations. One of 
the most important of these consists in thumping vehemently 
on a kind of musical instrument, and producing a confused, 
hideous, and undefinable uproar, which they call the descrip- 
tion of a battle — a jest, no doubt, for they are wonderfully 
facetious at times, and make great practice of passing jokes 
upon strangers. Sometimes they employ themselves in 
painting little caricatures of landscapes, wherein they will 
display their singular drollery in battering nature fairly out 
of countenance — representing her tricked out in all the 
tawdry finery of copper skies, purple rivers, calico rocks, 
red grass, clouds that look like old clothes set adrift by the 
tempest, and foxy trees, whose melancholy foliage, droop- 
ing and curling most fantastically, reminds me of an un- 
dressed periwig that I have now and then seen hung on a 
stick in a barber's window. At other times they employ 
themselves in acquiring a smattering of languages spoken 
by nations on the other side of the globe, as they find their 
own language not sufficiently copious to supply their con- 
stant demands, and express their multifarious ideas. But 
their most important domestic avocation is to embroider, on 
satin or muslin, flowers of a non-descript kind, in which 
the great art is to make them as unlike nature as possible ; 
or to fasten little bits of silver, gold, tinsel, and glass, on 
long stripes of muslin, which they drag after them with 
much dignity whenever they go abroad — a fine lady, like a 
bird of paradise, being estimated by the length of her tail. 

But do not, my friend, fall into the enormous error of sup- 
posing that the exercise of these arts is attended with any 
useful or profitable result ; believe me, thou couldst not in- 
dulge an idea more unjust and injurious ; for it appears to 
be an established maxim among the women of this country, 
that a lady loses her dignity when she condescends to be 
useful, and forfeits all rank in society the moment she can 
be convicted of earning a farthing. Their labours, there- 
fore, are directed not towards supplying their household, but 



m. decking their persons, and — -generous souls ! — they deck 
their persons, not so much to please themselves, as to grati- 
fy others, particularly strangers. I am confident thou wilt 
stare at this, my good Asem, accustom.ed as thou art to 
our eastern females, who shrink in blushing timidity, even 
from the glances of a lover, and are so chary of their fa- 
vours, that they even seem fearful of lavishing their smiles 
loo profusely on their husbands. Here, on the contrary, 
the stranger has the first place in female regard, and, so far 
do they carry their hospitality, that I have seen a fine lady 
slight a dozen tried friends and real admirers, who lived in 
her smiles and made her happiness their study, merely to 
allure the vague and wandering glances of a stranger, who 
viewed her person with indifference and treated her advan- 
ces with contempt. By the whiskers of our sublime bashaw, 
but this is highly flattering to a foreigner ! and thou mayest 
judge how particularly pleasing to one, who is like myself, 
so ardent an admirer of the sex. Far be it from me to con- 
demn this extraordinary manifestation of good will — let their 
own countrymen look to that. 

Be not alarmed I conjure thee, my dear Asem, lest I 
should be tempted, by these beautiful barbarians, to Break 
the faith I owe to the three-and-twenty -wives, from whom 
my unhappy destiny has perhaps severed me for ever ; — 
no, Asem, neither time, nor the bitter succession of misfor- 
tunes that pursues me, can shake from my heart the memo- 
ry of former attachments. I listen with tranquil heart to 
the strumming and prattling of these fair sirens ,• their 
whimsical paintings touch not the tender chord of my affec- 
tions ; and I would still defy their fascinations, though they 
trailed after them trains as long as the gorgeous trappings 
which are dragged at the heels of the holy camel of Mecca, 
or as the tail of the great beast in our prophet's vision, which 
measured three hundred and forty-nine leagues, two miles, 
three furlongs, and a hand's breadth in longitude. 

The dress of these women is, if possible, more eccentric 
and whimsical than their deportment ; and they take an in- 
ordinate pride in certain ornaments which are probably de- 
rived from their savage progenitors. A woman of this 
country, dressed out for an exhibition, is loaded with as 

20 



230 BEAUTIES OF 

many ornaments as a Circassian slave when brought out for 
sale. Their heads are tricked out with little bits of horn or 
shell, cut into fantastic shapes ; and they seem to emulate 
each other in the number of these singular baubles, like the 
women we have seen in our journeys to Aleppo, who cover 
their heads with the entire shell of a tortoise, and thus equip- 
ped are the envy of all their less fortunate acquaintance. 
They also decorate their necks and ears with coral, gold 
chains, and glass beads, and load their fingers with a variety 
of rings ; though, I must confess, I have never perceived 
that they wear any in their noses^ — as has been affirmed by 
many travellers. We have heard much of their painting 
themselves most hideously, and making use of bear's grease 
in great profusion — but this, I solemnly assure thee, is a 
misrepresentation : civilization, no doubt, having gradually 
extirpated these nauseous practices. It is true, I have seen 
two or three of these females who had disguised their fea- 
tures with paint, but then it was merely to give a tinge of 
red to their cheeks, and did not look very frightful ; and as 
to ointment, they rarely use any now, except occasionally a 
little Grecian oil for their hair, which gives it a glossy, 
greasy, and, as they think, very comely appearance. The 
last mentioned class of females, I take it for granted, have 
been but lately caught and still retain strong traits of their 
original savage propensities. 

The most flagrant and inexcusable fault however, which 
I find in these lovely savages, is the shameless and aban- 
doned exposure of their persons. Wilt not thou suspect 
me of exaggeration when I affirm- — wilt not thou blush for 
them, most discreet Mussulman, when I declare to thee— 
that they are so lost to all sense of modesty as to expose the 
whole of their faces from their forehead to the chin, and they 
even go abroad with their hands uncovered ! — Monstrous 
indelicacy! 

But what I am going to disclose will doubtless appear to 
thee still more incredible. Though I cannot forbear pay- 
ing a tribute of admiration to the beautiful faces of these 
fair infidels, yet I must give it as my firm opinion that their 
persons are preposterously unseemly. In vain did I look 
around me, on my first landing, for those divine forms of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 231 

redundant proportions, which answer to the true standard of 
eastern beauty — not a single fat fair one could I behold 
among the multitudes that thronged the streets : the females 
that passed in review before me tripping sportively along, 
resembled a procession of shadows, returning to their graves 
at the crowing of the cock. 

This meagreness I first ascribed to their excessive volu- 
bility, for I have somewhere seen it advanced by a learned 
doctor, that the sex were endowed with a peculiar activity 
of tongue, in order that they might practise talking as a 
healthful exercise, necessary to their confined and sedentary ^ 
mode of life. This exercise, it was natural to suppose, 
would be carried to great excess in a logocracy. " Too 
true," thought I, " they have converted, what was undoubt- 
edly meant as a beneficent gift, into a noxious habit, that 
steals the flesh from their bones and the rose from their 
cheeks — they absolutely talk themselves thin !" Judge then 
of my surprise when I was assured, not long since, that this 
meagreness was considered the perfection of personal beauty, 
and that many a lady starved herself, with all the obstinate 
perseverance of a pious dervise, into a fine figure ! " Nay 
more," said my informer, " they will often sacrifice their 
healths in this eager pursuit of skeleton beauty, and drink 
vinegar, eat pickles, and smoke tobacco, to keep themselves 
within the scanty outlines of the fashions." Faugh! Allah 
preserve me from such beauties, who contaminate their pure 
blood with noxious recipes ; who impiously sacrifice the 
best gifts of Heaven to a preposterous and mistaken vanity. 
Ere long I shall not be surprised to see them scarring their 
faces like the negroes of Consjo, flattening their noses in 
imitation of the Hottentots, or like the barbarians of Ab-al 
Timar, distortino; their lips and ears out of all natural di- 
mensions^ Since I received this information, I cannot con- 
template a fine figure, without thinking of a vinegar cruet; 
nor look at a dashing belle, without fancying her a pot of 
pickled cucumbers 'i What a difference, my friend, between 
those shades and the plump beauties of Tripoli, — -what a 
contrast between an infidel fair one and my favourite wife, 
Fatima, whom I bought by the hundred weight, and had 
trundled home m a wheelbarrow! 



Q33 BEAUTIES OF 

But enough for the present ; I am promised a faithful ac- 
count of the arcana of a lady's toilette — a complete initia- 
tion into the arts, mysteries, spells and potions, in that the 
whole chemical process,, by which ste i-educes herself down 
to the most fashionable standard of insignificance ; together 
with specimens of the strait waistcoats, the lacings, the 
bandages, and the various ingenious instruments with which 
she puts nature to the rack, and tortures herself into a pro- 
per figure to be admired. 

Farewell, thou sweetest of slave drivers ! The echoes 
that repeat to a lover's ear the song of his mistress are not 
ipore soothing than tidings from those we love. Let thy 
answer to my letters be speedy ; and never, I pray thee, for 
a moment^ cease to watch over the prosperity of my house, 
and the welfare of my beloved wives. Let them want for 
nothing, my friend, but feed them plentifully on honey, boil- 
ed rice, and water gruel ; so that when I return to the 
blessed land of my fathers, if that can ever be, I may find 
them improved in size and loveliness, and sleek as the grace- 
ful elephants that range the green valley of Abimar. 

Ever thincj 

MUSTA-PHA. 



AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. 

When a man is quietly journeying downwards into the 
valley of the shadow of departed youth, and begins to con- 
template in a shortened perspective the end of his pilgrim- 
age, he becomes more solicitous than ever that the remain- 
der of his wayfaring should be smooth and pleasant, and 
the evening of his life, like the evening of a summer's day, 
fade away in mild uninterrupted serenity. If haply his 
heart has escaped uninjured, through the dangers of a se- 
ductive world, it may then administer to the purest of his 
felicities, and its chords vibrate more musically for the trials 
they have sustained — like the viol which yields a melody 
sweet in proportion to its age. 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 233 

To a mind thus temperately harmonized, thus matured 
and mellowed by a long lapse of years, there is something 
truly congenial in the quiet enjoyment of our early autumn, 
amid the tranquillities of the country. There is a sober and 
chastened air of gaiety diffused over the face of nature, pe- 
culiarly interesting to an old man ; and when he views the 
surrounding landscape withering under his eye, it seems as 
if he and nature were taking a last farewell of each other, 
and parting with a melancholy smile — like a couple of old 
friends, who, having sported away the spring and summer 
of life together, part at the approach of winter with a kind 
of prophetic fear that they are never to meet again. 

It is either my good fortune or mishap to be keenly sus- 
ceptible to the influence of the atmosphere ; and I can feel 
in the morning, before I open my window, whether the wind 
is easterly. It will not, therefore, I presume be considered 
an extravagant instance of vainglory when I assert, that 
there are {"ew men who can discriminate more accurately in 
the different varieties of damps, fogs, Scotch-mists, and north- 
east storms, than myself. To the great discredit of my phi- 
losophy I confess, I seldom fail to anathematize and excom- 
munic-ate the weather, when it sports too rudely with my 
sensitive system ; but then I always endeavour to atone 
therefore, by eulogizing it when deserving of approbation. 
And as most of my readers, simple folk ! make but one dis- 
tinction, to wit, rain and sunshine — living in most honest 
ignorance of the various nice shades which distinguish one 
fine day from another — I take the trouble, from time to 
time, of letting them into some of the secrets of nature, — 
so will they be the better enabled to enjoy her beauties, with 
the zest of connoisseurs, and derive at least as much infor- 
mation from my pages as from the weather-wise lore of the 
almanac. 

Much of my recreation, since I retreated to the Hall, has 
consisted in making little excursions through the neighbour- 
hood ; which abounds in the variety of wild, romantic, and 
luxuriant landscape that generally characterizes the scenery 
in the vicinity of our rivers. There is not an eminence 
within a circuit of many miles but commands an extensive 
range of diversified and enchanting prospect. 

20* 



234 BEAUTIES OF 

Often have I rambled to the summit of some favourite 
hill, and thence, with feehngs sweetly tranquil as the lucid 
expanse of the heavens that canopied me, have noted the 
slow and almost imperceptible changes that mark the waning 
year. There are many features peculiar to our autumn, 
and which give it an individual character : the " green and 
yellow melancholy" that first steals over the landscape — the 
mild and steady serenity of the weather, and the transpa- 
rent purity of the atmosphere, speak not merely to the senses 
but the heart,- — it is the season of liberal emotions. To this 
succeeds fantastic gaiety, a motley dress, which the woods 
assume, where green and yellow, orange, purple, crimson 
and scarlet, are whimsically blended together. A sickly 
splendour this ! — like the wild and broken-hearted gaiety that 
sometimes precedes dissolution, or that childish sportiveness 
of superannuated age, proceeding, not from a vigorous flow 
of animal spirits, but from the decay and imbecility of the 
mind. We might, perhaps, be deceived by this gaudy garb 
of nature, were it not for the rustling of the falling leaf, 
which, breaking on the stillness of the scene, seems to an- 
nounce, in prophetic whispers, the dreary winter that is ap- 
proaching. When I have sometimes seen a thrifty young 
oak changing its hue of sturdy vigour for a bright but tran- 
sient glow of red, it has recalled to my mind the treacherous 
bloom that once mantled the cheek of a friend who is now 
no more ; and which, while it seemed to promise a long life 
of jocund spirits was the sure precursor of premature decay. 
In a little while, and this ostentatious foliage disappears — 
the close of autumn leaves but one wide expanse of dusky 
brown, save where some rivulet steals along, bordered with 
little stripes of green grass— the woodland echoes no more 
to the carols of the feathered tribes that sported in the leafy 
covert, and its solitude and silence are uninterrupted except 
by the plaintive whistle of the quail, the barking of the 
squirrel, or the still more melancholy wintry wind, which, 
rushing and swelling through the hollows of the mountains, 
sighs through the leafless branches of the grove, and seems 
to mourn the desolation of the year. 

To one who, like myself, is fond of drawing compari- 
sons between the different divisions of life and those of the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 235 

seasons, there will appear a striking analogy which connects 
the feelings of the aged with the decline of the year. Often 
as I contemplate the mild, uniform, and genial lustre with 
which the sun cheers and invigorates us in the month of 
October, and the almost imperceptible haze which, without 
obscuring, tempers all the asperities of the landscape, and 
gives to every object a character of stillness and repose, I 
cannot help comparing it with that portion of existence, when 
the spring of youthful hope and the summer of the passions 
having gone by, reason assumes an undisputed sway, and 
lights us on with bright but undazzling lustre, adown the 
hill of life. There is a full and mature luxuriance in the 
fields that fills the bosom with generous and disinterested 
content. It is not the thoughtless extravagance of spring, 
prodigal only in blossoms, nor the languid voluptuousness 
of summer, feverish in its enjoyments, and teeming only 
with immature abundance — ^it is that certain fruition of the 
labours of the past — that prospect of comfortable realities, 
which those will be sure to enjoy who have improved the 
bounteous smiles of Heaven, nor wasted' away their spring 
and summer in empty trifling or criminal indulgence. 

Cousin Pindar, who is my constant companion in these 
expeditions, and who still possesses much of the fire and 
energy of youthful sentiment, and a buxom hilarity of the 
spirits, often indeed draws me from these half-melancholy 
reveries, and makes me feel young again by the enthusiasm 
with which he contemplates, and the animation with which 
he eulogizes the beauties of nature displayed before him. 
His enthusiastic disposition never allows him to enjoy things 
by halves, and his feelings are continually breaking out in 
notes of admiration and ejaculations that sober reason might 
perhaps deem extravagant. But for my part, when I see a 
hale hearty old man, who has jostled through the rough path 
of the world, without having worn away the fine edge of his 
feelings, or blunted his sensibility to natural and moral 
beauty, I compare him to the evergreen of the forest, whose 
colou.rs, instead of fading at the approach of winter, seem 
to assume additional lustre when contrasted with the sur- 
rounding desolation. Such a man is my friend Pindar ; — 
yet sometimes, and particularly at the approach of evening, 



236 BEAUTIES OF 

even he will fall in with my humour ; but he soon recovers 
his natural tone of spirits ; and, mounting on the elasticity 
of his mind, like Ganymede on the eagle's wing, he soars 
to the ethereal regions of sunshine and fancy. 

One afternoon we had strolled to the top of a high hill in 
the neighbourhood of the Hall, which commands an almost 
boundless prospect ; and as the shadows began to lengthen 
around us, and the distant mountains to fade into mists, my 
cousin was seized with a moralizing fit. " It seems to me," 
said he, laying his hand lightly on my shoulder, " that there 
is just at this season, and this hour, a sympathy between us 
and the world we are now contemplating. The evening is 
stealing upon nature as well as upon us; — the shadows of 
the opening day have given place to those of its close ; and 
the only difference is, that in. the morning they were before 
us, now they are behind ; and that the first vanished in the 
splendours of noon-day, the latter will be los;t in the oblivion 
of night. Our ' May of life,' ray dear Launce, has for ever 
fled : our summer is over and gone : — but," continued he, 
suddenly recovering himself and slapping me gaily on the 
shoulder, — "but why should we repine? — What though the 
capricious zephyrs of spring, the heats and hurricanes of 
summer, have given place to the sober sunshine of autumn 
— and though the woods begin to assume the dappled livery 
of decay ! yet the prevailing colour is still green — gay, 
sprightly green. 

"Let us then comfort ourselves with this reflection ; that 
though the shades of the morning have given place to those 
of the evening, — though the spring is past, the summer over, 
and the autumn come, — still you and I go on our way re- 
joicing ; — and while, like the lofty mountains of our South- 
ern America, our heads are covered with snow, still, like 
them, we feel the genial warmth of spring and summer 
playing upon our bosoms." 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 237 



THE FAMILY OF THE LAMBS. 

The family of the Lambs had long been among the most 
thriving and popular in the neighbourhood ; the Miss Lambs 
were the belles of Little Britain, and every body was pleased 
when Old Lamb' had made money enough to shut up shop, 
and put his name on a brass plate on his door. In an evil 
hour, however, one of the Miss Lambs had the honour of 
being a lady in attendance on the Lady Mayoress, at her 
grand annual ball, on which occasion she wore three tower- 
ing ostrich feathers on her head. The family never got 
over it ; they were immediately smitten with a passion for 
high life ; set up a one horse carriage, put a bit of gold lace 
round the errand boy's hat, and have been the talk and de- 
testation of the whole neighbourhood ever since. They 
could no longer be induced to play at Pope- Joan or blind- 
man's-buff; they could endure no dances but quadrilles, 
which nobody had ever heard of in Little Britain ; and they 
took to reading novels, talking bad French, and playing 
upon the piano. Their brother too, who had been articled 
to an attorney, set up for a dandy and a critic, characters 
hitherto unknown in these parts, and he confounded the 
worthy folks exceedingly by talking about Kean, the. Opera 
and the Edinbro' Review. 

What was still worse, the Lambs gave a grand ball, to 
which they neglected to invite any of their old neighbours ; 
but they had a great deal of genteel company from Theo- 
bald's Road, Red-lion Square, and other parts towards the 
west. . There were several beaux of the brother's acquaint- 
ance from Gray's Inn Lane and Hatton Garden ; and not 
less than three Aldermen'^ ladies with their daughters. This 
was not to be forgotten or forgiven. All Little Britain was 
in an uproar with the smacking of whips, the lashing of 
miserable horses, and the rattling and jingling of hackney 
coaches. The gossips of the neighbourhood might be seen 
popping their night caps out at every window, watching the 
crazy vehicles rumble by ; and there was a knot of virulent 
old crones, that kept a look-out from a house just opposite 



238 BEAUTIES OF 

the retired butcher's, and scanned and criticised everyone 
that knocked at the door. 

This dance was a cause of almost open war, and the 
whole neighbourhood declared they would have nothing 
more to say to the Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, 
when she had no engagements with her quality acquaint- 
ance, would give little hum-drum tea junketings to some of 
her old cronies, " quite," as she would say, " in a friendly 
way :" and it is equally true that her invitations were always 
accepted, in spite of all previous vows to the contrary. Nay, 
the good ladies would sit and be delighted with the music of 
the Miss Lambs, who would condescend to strum an Irish 
melody for them on the piano ; and they would listen with 
wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman 
Plunket's family of Port-soken-ward, and the Miss Timber- 
lakes, the rich heiresses of Crutched-Friars ; but then they 
relieved their consciences and averted the reproach of their 
confederates, by canvassing at the next gossiping convoca- 
tion every thing that had passed, and pulling the Lambs and 
their rout all to pieces. 

The only one of the family that could not be made 
fashionable was the retired butcher himself. Honest Lamb, 
in spite of the meekness of his name, was a rough hearty 
old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head of black hair like 
a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled like his own beef. It 
was in vain that the daughters always spoke of him as " the 
old gentleman," addressed him as " papa," in tones of infi- 
nite softness, and endeavoured to coax him into a dressing 
gown and slippers, and other gentlemanly habits. Do what 
they might, there was no keeping down the butcher. His 
sturdy nature would break through all their glossings. He 
had a hearty vulgar good humour that was irrepressible. His 
very jokes made his sensitive daughters shudder ; and ho 
persisted in wearing his blue cotton coat of a morning, 
dining at two o'clock, and having a " bit of sausage with 
his tea." 

He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity of 
his family. He found his old comrades gradually growing 
cold and civil to him ; no longer laughing at his jokes ; and 
now and then throwing out a fling at " some people" and a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 239 

hint about " quality binding." This both nettled and per- 
plexed the honest butcher ; and his wife and daughters, with 
the consummate policy of the shrewder sex, taking advan- 
tage of the circumstance, at length prevailed upon him to 
give up his afternoon's pipe and tankard at Wagstaff's ; to 
sit after dinner by himself and take his pint of port — a liquor 
he detested — and to nod in his chair in solitary and dismal 
gentility. 

The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along the 
streets in French bonnets, with unknown beaux ; and talking 
and laughing so loud that it distressed the nerves of every 
good lady within hearing. They even went so far as to at- 
tempt patronage, and actually induced a French dancing 
master to set up in the neighbourhood ; but the worthy folks 
of Little Britain took fire at it, and did so persecute the poor 
Gaul, that he was fain to pack up fiddle and dancing pumps, 
and decamp with such precipitation, that he absolutely for- 
got to pay for his lodgings. 

I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all this 
fiery indignation on the part of the community, was merely 
the overflowing of their zeal for good old English manners, 
and their horror of innovation ; and I applauded the silent 
contempt they were so vociferous in expressing, for upstart 
pride, French fashions, and the Miss Lambs. But I grieve 
to say that I soon perceived the infection had taken hold ; 
and that my neighbours, after condemning, were beginning 
to follow their example. I overheard my landlady impor- 
tuning her husband to let their daughters have one quarter 
at French and music, and that they might take a few lessons 
in quadrille. I even saw, in the course of a few Sundays, 
no less than five French bonnets, precisely like those of the 
Miss Lambs, parading about Little Britain, 



240 BEAUTIES OF 



BLINDMAN'S-BDFF. 

After the dinner table was removed, the hall was given 
up to the younger members of the family, who, prompted to 
all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, 
made its old walls ring with their merriment, as they played 
at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gamlDols of 
children, and particularly at this happy holiday season, and 
could not help stealing out of the drawing-room on hearing 
one of their peals of laughter. I found them at the game of 
blind man's-buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their 
revc'ls, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that 
ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, was blinded in the 
midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him 
as the mock fairies about Falstaff ; pinching him, plucking 
at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One 
fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all 
in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her frock 
half torn ofi* her shoulders, a complete picture of a romp, was 
the chief tormentor ; and from the slyness with which Master 
Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild lit- 
tle nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking 
over chairs, I suspected the rogue of being not a whit more 
blinded than was convenient. 



THE ANGLER. 

On parting with the old angler I inquired after his place 
of abode, and happening to be in the neighbourhood of the 
village a few evenings afterwards, I had the curiosity to seek 
him out. I found him living in a small cottage, containing 
only one room, but a perfect curiosity in its method and ar- 
rangement. It was on the skirts of the village, on a green 
bank, a little back from the road, with a small garden in 
front, stocked with kitchen herbs, and adorned with a few 



WASHIN6T0N IRVING. 241 

flowers. The whole front of the cottage was overrun with 
a honeysuckle. On the top was a ship for a weathercock. 
The interior was fitted up in a truly nautical style ; his ideas 
of comfort and convenience having been acquired on the 
birth-deck of a man of war. A hammock was slung from 
the ceiling, which, in the day-time, was lashed up so as to 
take but little room. From the centre of the chamber hung 
a model of a ship of his own workmanship. Two or three 
chairs, a table, and a large sea chest, formed the principal 
moveables. About the walls were stuck up naval ballads, 
such as Admiral Hosier's Ghost, All in the Downs, and 
Tom Bowling, intermingled with pictures of sea fights, 
among which the battle of Camperdown held a distinguished 
place. The mantel-piece was decorated with sea shells ; 
over which hung a quadrant, flanked by two wood-cuts of 
most bitter looking naval commanders. His implements for 
angling were carefully disposed on nails and hooks about the 
room. On a shelf was arranged his library, containing a 
work on angling, much worn ; a bible covered with canvass; 
an odd volume or two of voyages ; a nautical almanac ; 
and a book of songs. 

His family consisted of a large black cat with one eye, 
and a parrot which he had caught and tamed, and educated 
himself, in the course of one of his voyages ; and which ut- 
tered a variety of sea phrases with the hoarse brattling tone 
of a veteran boatswain. The establishment reminded me of 
that of the renowned Robinson Crusoe ; it was kept in neat 
order, every thing being " stowed away" with the regularity 
of a ship of war ; and he informed me he " scoured the deck 
every morning, and swept it between meals." 

I found him seated on a bench before the door, smoking 
his pipe in the soft evening sunshine. His cat was purring 
soberly on the threshold, and his parrot describing some 
strange evolutions in an iron ring that swung in the centre 
of his cage. He had been angling all day, and gave me a 
history of his sport with as much minuteness as a general 
would talk over a campaign ; being particularly animated in 
relating the manner in which he had taken a large trout, 
which had completely tasked all his skill and wariness, and 
which he had sent as a trophy to mine hostess of the inn. 

21 



242 BEAUTIES OF 

How comforting it is to see a cheerful and contented old 
age ; and to behold a poor fellow, like this, after being tem- 
pest tost through life, safely moored in a snug harbour, in the 
evening of his days ! His happiness, however, sprung from 
within himself, and was independent of external circum- 
stances ; for he had that inexhaustible good-nature, which is 
the most precious gift of Heaven ; spreading itself like oil 
over the troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind 
smooth and equable in the roughest weather. 

On inquiring further about him, I learned that he was a 
universal favourite in the village, and the oracle of the tap- 
room ; where he delighted the rustics with his songs, and 
like Sinbad, astonished them with his stories of strange lands, 
and shipwrecks, and sea fights. He was much noticed too 
by gentlemen sportsmen of the neighbourhood ; had taught 
several of them the art of angling ; and was a privileged 
visiter to their kitchens. The whole tenor of his life was 
quiet and inoffensive, being principally passed about the 
neighbouring streams when the Weather and season were 
favourable; and at other times he employed himself at 
home, preparing his fishing tackle for the next campaign, or 
manufacturing rods, nets, and flies for his patrons and pupils 
among the gentry. 

He was a regular attendant at church on Sundays, though 
he generally fell asleep during the sermon. He had made 
it his particular request that when he died he should be bu- 
ried on a green spot, which he could see from his seat in 
church, and which he had marked out ever since he was a 
boy, and had thought of when far from home on the raging 
sea, in danger of being food for the fishes — it was the spot 
where his father and mother had been buried. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 243 



RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND. 

Nothing can be more imposing than t?je magnificence of 
English park scener}^ Vast lawns that extend like sheets 
of vivid green, with here and there clumps of gigantic trees, 
heaping up rich piles of foliage. The solemn pomp of groves 
and woodland glades, with the deer trooping in silent herds 
across them ; the hare, bounding away to the covert ; or the 
pheasant, suddenly bursting upon the wing. The brook, 
taught to wind in natural meanderings, or expand into a 
glassy lake — the sequestered pool, reflecting the quivering 
trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the 
trout roaming fearlessly about its limpid waters : while some 
'rustic temple or sylvan statue, grown green and dark with 
age, gives an air of classic sanctity to the seclusion. 

These are but a few of the features of park scenery ; but 
what most delights me, is the creative talent with which the 
English decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle life. — 
The rudest habitation, the most unpromising and scanty por- 
tion of land, in the hands of an Englishman of taste, be- 
comes a little paradise. With a nicely discriminating eye, 
he seizes at once upon its capabilities, and pictures in his 
mind the future landscape. The sterile spot grows into love- 
liness under his hand ; and yet the operations of art which 
produce the effect are scarcely to be perceived. The cher- 
ishing and training of some trees ; the cautious pruning of 
others ; the nice distribution of flowers and plants of tender 
and graceful foliage ; the introduction of a green slope of 
velvet turf; the partial opening to a peep of blue distance, 
or silver gleam of water ; all these are managed with a deli- 
cate tact, a pervading yet quiet assiduity, like the magic 
touchings with which a painter finishes up a favourite pic- 
ture. 

The residence of people of fortune and refinement in the 
country has diffused a degree of taste and elegance in rural 
economy, that descends to the lowest class. The very la- 
bourer, with his thatched cottage and narrow slip of ground, 
attends to their embellishment. The trim hedge, the grass=. 
plot before the door, the little flower-bed bordered with snug 



244 BEAUTIES OF 

box, the woodbine trained up against the wall, and hanging 
its blossoms about the lattice, the pot of flowers in the win- 
dow, the holly providently planted about the house, to cheat 
winter of its drearinesss, and to throw in a semblance of 
green summer to cheer the fire-side : all these bespeak the 
influence of taste, flowing down from high sources, and per- 
vading the lowest levels of the public mind. If ever Love, 
as poets sing, delights to visit a cottage, it must be the cot- 
tage of an English peasant. 

The fondness for rural life among the higher classes of 
the English, has had a great and salutary effect upon the 
national character. I do not know a finer race of men than 
the English gentlemen. Instead of the softness and effemi- 
nacy which characterize the man of rank in most countries, 
they exhibit a union of elegance and strength, a robustness 
of frame and freshness of complexion, which I am inclined 
to attribute to their living so much in the'open air, and pur- 
suing so eagerly the invigorating recreations of the country. 
These hardy exercises produce also a healthful tone of mind 
and spirits, and a manliness and simplicity of manners, 
which even the follies and dissipations of the town cannot 
easily pervert, and can never entirely destroy. In the coun- 
try, too, the different orders of society seem to approach 
more freely, to be more disposed to blend and operate fa- 
vourably upon each other. The distinctions between them 
do not appear to be so marked and impassable, as in the 
cities. The manner in which property has been distributed 
into small estates and farms, has established a regular gra- 
dation from the nobleman, through the class of gentry, small 
landed proprietors, and substantial farmers, down to the 
labouring peasantry ; and while it has thus banded the ex- 
tremes of society together, has infused into each intermedi- 
ate rank a spirit of independence. This, it must be confess- 
ed, is not so universally the case at present as it was form- 
erly ; the larger estates having, in late years of distress, 
absorbed the smaller, and, in some parts of the country, al- 
most annihilated the sturdy race of small farmers. These, 
however, I believe, are but casual breaks in the general sys- 
tem I have mentioned. 

In rural occupation there is nothing mean and debasing. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 245 

It leads a man forth among scenes of natural grandeur and 
beauty ; it leaves him to the workings of his own mind, 
operated upon by the purest and most elevating of external 
influences. Such a man may be simple and rough, but he 
cannot be vulgar. The man of refinement, therefore, finds 
nothing revolting in an intercourse with the lower orders of 
rural life, as he does when he casually mingles with the 
lower of cities. He lays aside his distance and reserve, and 
is glad to waive the distinctions of rank, and to enter into 
the honest, heartfelt enjoyments of common life. Indeed the 
very amusements of the country, bring men more and more 
together ; and the sound of hound and horn blend all feel- 
ings into harmony. I believe this is one great reason why 
th6 nobility and gentry are more popular among the inferior 
orders in England than they are in any other country ; and 
why the latter have endured so many excessive pressures 
and extremities, without repining more generally at the une- 
qual distribution of fortune and privilege. 

To this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may also 
be attributed the rural feeling that runs through British lite- 
rature ; the frequent use of illustrations from rural life ; 
those incomparable descriptions of nature that abound in the 
British Poets — that have continued down from " the flower 
and the leaf" of Chaucer, and have brought into our closets 
all the freshness and fragrance of the dewy landscape. The 
pastoral writers of other countries appear as if they had paid 
nature an occasional visit, and become acquainted with her 
general charms : but the British poets have lived and revel- 
led with her, — they have wooed her in her most secret 
haunts, — they have watched her minutest caprices. A 
spray could not tremble in the breeze — a leaf could not rus- 
tle to the ground — a diamond drop could not patter in the 
stream — a fragrance could not exhale from the humble vio- 
let, nor a daisy unfold its crimson tints to the morning ; but 
it has been noticed by these impassioned and delicate obser- 
vers, and wrought up into some beautiful morality. 

21* 



246 BEAUTIES OK 



LETTER 



FROM MtrSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI K:HAN) 

Te Muley Helim al Raggh surnamed the agreeable Ragamuffin^ 
chief nhounteboMk and buffo-dancer to his Highness, 

The numerous letters which I have written to our friend 
the slave-driver, as well as those to thy kinsman the snorer, 
and which doubtless were read to thee, honest Muley, have, 
in all probability, awakened thy curiosity to know further 
particulars concerning the manners of the barbarians, who 
hold me in such ignominious captivity. I was lately at one 
of their public ceremonies, which, at first, perplexed'me ex- 
ceedingly, as to its object ; but as the explanations of a friend 
have let me somewhat into the secret, and as it seems to 
bear no small analogy to thy profession, a description of it 
may contribute to thy amusement, if not to thy instruction. 

A few days since, just as I had finished my coffee, and 
was perfuming my whiskers preparatory to a morning walk, 
I was waited upon by an inhabitant of this place, a gay 
young infidel, who has of late cultivated my acquaintance. 
He pres-ented me with a square bit of painted pasteboard, 
which he informed me, would entitle me to admittance to 
the city assembly. Curious to know the meaning of a phrase 
which was entirely new to me, I requested an explanation ; 
when my friend informed me that the assembly was a nu- 
merous concourse of young people of both sexes, who, on 
certain occasions, gathered together to dance about a large 
room with violent gesticulation, and try to out-dress each 
other. " In short," said he, "if you wish to see the natives 
in all their glory, there's no place like the city assembly ; 
so you must go there and sport your whiskers." Though 
the matter of sporting my whiskers was considerably be- 
yond my apprehension, yet I now began, as I thought, to 



Washington irving. 247 

understand him. I had heard of the war dances of the na« 
tives, which are a kind of religious institution, and had little 
doubt but that this must be a solemnity of the kind — upon 
a prodigious great scale. Anxious as I am to contemplate 
these strange people in every situation, I willingly acceded 
to his proposal, and, to be more at ease, I determined to lay 
aside my Turkish dress, and appear in plain garments of the 
fashion of this country, as is my custom whenever I wish 
to mingle in a crowd, without exciting the attention of the 
gaping multitude. 

It was long after the shades of night had fallen, before 
my friend appeared to conduct me to the assembly. " These 
infidels," thought I, " shroud themselves in mystery, and 
seeli the aid of gloom and darkness, to heighten the solem- 
nity of their pious orgies." Resolving to conduct myself 
with that decent respect, which every stranger owes to the 
customs of the land in which he sojourns, I chastised my 
features into an expression of sober reverence, and stretched 
my face into a degree of longitude suitable to the ceremony 
1 v^"as about to witness. Spite of myself, I felt an emotion 
of awe stealing over my senses as I approached the majestic 
pile. My imagination pictured something similar to a de- 
scent into the cave of Dom-Daniel, where the necromancers 
of the East are taught their infernal arts. I entered with 
the same gravity of demeanour that I would have approach- 
ed the holy temple of Mecca, and bowed my head three 
times as I passed the threshold. " Head of the mighty 
Ararou !" thought I, on being ushered into a splendid saloon, 
" what a display is here ! surely I am transported to the 
mansions of the Houris, the elysium of the faithful!" How 
tame appeared all the descriptions of enchanted palaces in 
our Arabian poetry ! Where ever I turned my eyes, the 
quick glances of beauty dazzled my vision and ravished my 
heart : lovely virgins fluttered by me, darting imperial looks 
of conquest, or beaming such smiles of invitation, as did 
Gabriel when he beckoned our holy prophet to heaven. 
Shall I own the weakness of thy friend, good Muley ? — 
while thus gazing on the enchanting scene before me, I for 
a moment forgot my country, and even the memory of my 
three-and-twenty wives faded from my heart ; my thoughts 



§48 BEAUTIES or 

were bewildered and led astray, by the charms of these be- 
witching savages, and I sunk, for a while, into that delicious 
state of mind where the senses, all enchanted and all striv- 
ing for mastery, produce an endless variety of tumultuous, 
yet pleasing emotions. Oh, Muley, never shall I again 
wonder that an infidel should prove a recreant to the single 
solitary wife allotted him, when even thy friend, armed with 
all the precepts of Mahomet, can so easily prove faithless to 
three-and-twenty ! 

" Whither have you led me?" said I, at length, to my 
companion, " and to whom do these beautiful creatures be- 
long? certainly this must be the seraglio of the grand ba- 
shaw of the city, and a most happy bashaw must he be, to 
possess treasures which even his highness of Tripoli cannot 
parallel." " Have a care," cried my companion, " how you 
talk of seraglios, or you will have all these gentle nymphs 
about your ears ; for seraglio is a word which, beyond all 
others, they abhor : — most of them," continued he, " have 
no lord and master, but come here to catch one — they're in 
the market, as we term it." " Ah, ha !" said I, exultingly, 
*' then you really have a fair, or slave market, such as we 
have in ihe East, where the faithful are provided with the 
choicest virgins of Georgia and Circassia ? — by our glorious 
sun of Afric, but I should like to select some ten or a dozen 
wives from so lovely an assemblage ! pray what would you 
suppose they might be bought for ?" 

Before I could receive an answer, my attention was at- 
tracted by two or three good-looking middle-sized men, who 
being dressed in black, a colour universally worn in this 
country by the muftis and dervises, I immediately concluded 
to bs high priests, and was confirmed in my original opinion 
that this was a religious ceremony. These reverend per- 
sonages are entitled managers, and enjoy unlimited authori- 
ty in the assemblies, being armed with swords, with which, 
I am told, they would infallibly put any lady to death who 
infringed the laws of the temple. They walked round the 
room with great solemnity, and, with an air of profound 
importance and mystery, put a little piece of folded paper 
in each fair hand, which I concluded were religious talis- 
mans. One of them dropped on the floor, whereupon 1 slily 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 249^ 

put my foot on it, and, watching an opportunity, picked it 
op unobserved, and found it to contain some unintelligible 
words and the mystic number 9. What were its virtues I 
know not ; except that I put it in my pocket, and have 
hitherto been preserved from my fit of the lumbago, which 
I generally have about this season of the year ever since 
1 tumbled into the well of ZJm-zim on my pilgrimage to 
Mecca. I enclose it to thee in this letter, presuming it to 
be particularly serviceable against the dangers of thy pro- 
fession. 

Shortly after the distribution of these talismans, one of 
the high priests stalked into the middle of the room with 
great majesty, and clapped his hands three times : a loud 
expFosion of music succeeded from a number of black, yel- 
low, and white musicians, perched in a kind of cage over 
the grand entrance. The company were thereupon thrown 
into great confusion and apparent consternation. They hur- 
ried to and fro about the room, and at length formed them- 
selves into little groups of eight persons, half male and half 
female ; — the music struck into something like harmony, 
and, in a moment, to my utter astonishment and dismay, 
they were all seized with what I concluded to be a paroxysm 
of religious frenzy, tossing about their heads in a ludicrous 
style from side to side, and indulging in extravagant contor- 
tions of figure ; — now throwing their heels into the air, and 
anon whirling round with the velocity of the eastern idola- 
ters, who think they pay a grateful homage to the sun by 
imitating his motions. I expected every moment to see them 
fall down in convulsions, foam at the mouth, and shriek with 
fancied inspiration. As usual the females seemed most fer- 
vent in their religious exercises, and performed them with a 
melancholy expression of feature that was peculiarly touch- 
ing ; but I was highly gratified by the exemplary conduct 
of several male devotees, who, though their gesticulations 
would intimate a wild merriment of the feelings, maintained 
throughout as inflexible a gravity of countenance as so many 
monkeys of the island of Borneo at their antics. 

"And pray," said I, " who is the divinity that presides 
in this splendid mosque?" " The divinity ! Oh, I understand 
—•you mean the belle of the evening ; we have a new one 



250 BEAUTIES OF 

every season. The one at present in fashion is that lady 
you see yonder, dressed in white, with pink ribbons, and a 
crowd of adorers around her." " Truly," cried I, " this is 
the pleasantest deity I have encountered in the whole course 
of my travels ; — so familiar, so condescending, and so mer- 
ry withal ; — why, her very worshippers take her by the 
hand, and whisper in her ear." 

" My good Mussulman," replied my friend with great 
gravity, " I perceive you are completely in an error con- 
cerning the intent of this ceremony. You are now in a 
place of public amusement, not of public worship ; and the 
pretty looking young men you see making such violent gro- 
tesque distortions are merely indulging in our favourite 
amusement of dancing." " I cry your mercy," exclaimed 
I, " these then are the dancing men and women of the town, 
such as we have in our principal cities, who hire themselves 
out for the entertainment of the wealthy ; — but, pray who 
pays them for this fatiguing exhibition ?" — My friend re- 
garded me for a moment with an air of whimsical perplexi- 
ty, as if doubtful whether I was in jest or in earnest — 
" 'Sblood man," cried he, " these are some of our greatest 
people, our fashionables, who are merely dancing here for 
amusement." Dancing for amusement ! think of that, Mu- 
ley ! — thou, whose greatest pleasure is to chew opium, smoke 
tobacco, loll on a couch, and doze thyself into the regions 
of the Houris ! — Dancing for amusement ! — shall I never 
cease having occasion to laugh at the absurdities of these 
barbarians, who are laborious in their recreations, and in- 
dolent only in their hours of business ! — Dancing for amuse- 
ment ! — the very idea makes my bones ache, and I never 
think of it without being obliged to apply my handker- 
chief to my forehead, and fan myself into some degree of 
coolness. 

" And pray," said I, when my astonishment had a little 
subsided, " do these musicians also toil for amusement, or 
are they confined to their cage, like birds, to sing for the 
gratification of others ? I should think the former was the 
case, from the animation with which they flourish their el- 
bows." " Not so," replied my friend, " they are well paid, 
which is no more than just, for I assure you they are the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. ' 251 

most important personages in the room. The fiddler puts 
the whole assembly in motion, and directs their movements, 
like the master of a puppet-show, who sets all his paste- 
board gentry kicking by a jerk of his fingers. There now, 
look at that dapper little gentleman yonder, who appears to 
be suffering the pangs of dislocation in every limb : he is 
the most expert puppet in the room, and performs not so 
much for his own amusement, as for that of the bystanders." 
Just then, the little gentleman having finished one of his pa- 
roxysms of activity, seemed to be looking round for ap- 
plause from the spectators. Feeling myself really much 
obliged to him for his exertions, I made him a low bow of 
thanks, but nobody followed my example, which I thought 
a singular instance of ingratitude. 

Thou wilt perceive, friend Muley, that the dancing of 
these barbarians is totally different from the science pro- 
fessed by thee in Tripoli ; the country, in fact, is afflicted 
by numerous epidemical diseases, which travel from house 
to house, from city to city, with the regularity of a caravan. 
Among these, the most formidable is this dancing mania, 
which prevails chiefly throughout the winter. It at first 
seized on a few people of fashion, and being indulged in 
moderation was a cheerful exercise ; but in a little time, by 
quick advances, it infected all clashes of the community, 
and became a raging epidemic. The doctors, immediately, 
as is their usual way, instead of devising a remedy, fell 
together by the ears, to decide whether it was native or im- 
ported, and the sticklers for the latter opinion traced it to a 
cargo of trumpery from France, as they had before hunted 
down the yellow-fever to a bag of coffee from the West 
Indies. What makes this disease the more formidable is, 
that the patients seem infatuated with their malady, abandon 
themselves to its unbounded ravages, and expose their per- 
sons to wintry storms and mid-night airs, more fatal in this 
capricious climate, than the withering Simoon blast of the 
desert. 

I know not whether it is a sight most whimsical, or 
melancholy, to witness a fit of this dancing malady. The 
lady hops up to the gentleman, who stands at the distance 
of about three paces, and then capers back again to her 



853 • BEAUTIES OF 

place ; — the gentleman of course does the same ; then they 
skip one way, then they jump another ; — then they turn 
their backs to each other ; — then they seize each other and 
shake hands ; then they whirl round, and throw themselves 
into a thousand grotesque and ridiculous attitudes ; — some- 
times on one leg, and sometimes on the other, and some- 
times on no leg at all : and this they call exhibiting the 
graces ! By the nineteen thousand capers of the great 
mountebank of Damascus, but these graces must be some- 
thing like the crooked backed dwarf of Shabrac, who is 
sometimes permitted to amuse his Highness by imitating 
the tricks of a monkey. These fits continue for short in- 
tervals of from four to five hours, till at last the lady is led 
off, faint, languid, exhausted, and panting, to her carriage ; 
— rattles home ; — passes a night of feverish restlessness, 
cold perspirations, and troubled sleep ; rises late next morn- 
ing, if she rises at all ; is nervous, petulant, or a prey to 
languid indifference all day ; a mere household spectre, 
neither giving nor receiving enjoyment ; in the evening hur- 
ries to another dance ; receives an unnatural exhilaration 
from the lights, the music, the crowd, and the unmeaning 
bustle ; — flutters, sparkles, and blooms for a while, until the 
transient delirium being past, the infatuated maid drops and 
languishes into apathy again ; — is again led off to her car- 
riage, and the next morning rises to go through exactly the 
same joyless routine. 

And yet, wilt thou believe it, my dear Raggi, these are 
rational beings ; nay, more, their countrymen would fain 
persuade me they have souls ! Is it not a thousand times 
to be lamented that beings, endowed with charms that might 
warm even the frigid heart of a dervise ; — with social and 
endearing powers, that would render them the joy and pride 
of the harem ; — should surrender themselves to a habit of 
heartless dissipation, which preys imperceptibly on the 
roses of the cheek ; which robs the eye of its lustre, the 
mouth of its dimpled smile, the spirits of their cheerful 
hilarity, and the limbs of their elastic vigour : — which hur- 
ries them off in the spring-time of existence ; or, if they 
survive, yields to the arms of a youthful bridegroom, a 
frame wrecked in the storms of dissipation, and struggling 



WASHINGTON IRTING. 253 

with premature infirmity. Alas, Muley ! may I not as- 
cribe to this cause the number of Httle old women I meet 
with in this country, from the age of eighteen to eight-and- 
twenty 1 

In sauntering down the room, my attention was attracted 
by a smoky painting, which, on nearer examination, I found 
consisted of two female figures crowning a bust with a 
wreath of laurel. " This, I suppose," cried I, " was some 
famous dancer in his time ? " O, no," replied my friend, 
" he was only a general." " Good ; but then he must have 
been great at a cotillion, or expert at a fiddle-stick — or why 
is his memorial here?" "Quite the contrary," answered 
my companion ; " history makes no mention of his ever 
having flourished a fiddle-stick, or figured in a single dance. 
You have no doubt, heard of him : he was the illustrious 
Washington, the father and deliverer of his country : and, 
as our nation is remarkable for gratitude to great men, it 
always does honour to their memory, by placing their monu- 
ments over the doors of taverns, or in the corners of dancing- 
rooms." 

From thence my friend and I strolled into a small apart- 
ment adjoining the grand saloon, where 1 beheld a number 
of grave looking persons with venerable gray heads, but 
without beards, which I thought very unbecoming, seated 
round a table studying hieroglyphics. I approached them 
with reverence, as so many magi, or learned men, endea- 
vouring to expound the mysteries of Egyptian science : se- 
veral of them threw down money, which I supposed was a 
reward proposed for some great discovery, when presently 
one of them spread his hieroglyphics on the table, exclaimed 
triumphantly, " Two bullets and a bragger !" and swept all 
the money into his pocket. He has discovered a key to the 
hieroglyphics, thought I — happy mortal ! — no doubt, his 
name shall be immortalized. Willing, however, to be sa- 
tisfied, I looked round on my companion with an inquiring 
eye ; he understood me, and informed me that these were a 
company of friends, who had met together to win each other's 
money and be agreeable. " Is that all ?" exclaimed I ; 
" why then, I pray you, make way, and let me escape 
from this temple of abominations, who knows but these 

22 



254 BEAUTIES OF 

people, who meet together to toil, worry, and fatigue them- 
selves to death, and give it the name of pleasure — and who 
win each other's money by way of being agreeable — may 
some one of them take a liking to me, and pick my pocket, 
or break my head in a paroxysm of hearty good-will !" 

Thy friend, 

MUSTAPHA. 



JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. 

James flourished nearly about the time of Chaucer and 
Gower, and was evidently an admirer and studier of their 
writings. Indeed, in one of his stanzas he acknowledges 
them as his masters ; and, in some parts of his poem, we 
find traces of similarity to their productions, more especially 
to those of Chaucer. There are always, however, general 
features of resemblance in the works of contemporary au- 
thors, which are not so much borrowed from each other as 
from the times. Writers, like bees, toil their sweets in the 
wide world ; they incorporate with their own conceptions 
the anecdotes and thoughts which are current in society ; 
and thus each generation has some feature in common, cha- 
racteristic of the age in which it lived. 

James in fact belongs to one of the most brilliant eras of 
our literary history, and establishes the claims of his coun- 
try to a participation in its primitive honours. Whilst a 
small cluster of English writers are constantly cited as the 
fathers of our verse, the name of their great Scottish com- 
peer is apt to be passed over in silence ; but he is evidently 
worthy of being enrolled in that little constellation of remote 
but never-failing luminaries, who shine in the highest firma- 
ment of literature, and who, like morning stars, sang to- 
gether at the bright dawning of British poesy. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 255 



HoiD Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
the Burthen of taking Care of the Nation — with sundry 
Particulars of his Conduct in Time of Peace. 

The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes a 
melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexations in- 
separable from government ; and may serve as a solemn 
warning to all who are ambitious of attaining the seat of 
power. Though crowned with victory, enriched by con- 
quest, and returning in triumph to his metropolis, his exul- 
tation was checked by beholding the sad abuses that had 
taken pface during the short interval of his absence. 

The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, had 
taken a deep draught of the intoxicating cup of power, du- 
ring the reign of William the Testy; and though, upon the 
accession of Peter Stuyvesant, they felt, with a certain in- 
stinctive perception, which mobs as well as cattle possess, 
that the reins of government had passed into stronger hands ; 
yet they could not help fretting, and chafing, and champing 
on the bit, in restive silence. 

It seems by some strange and inscrutable fatality, to be 
the destiny of most countries (and more especially of your 
enhghtened republics,) always to be governed by the most 
incompetent man in the nation ; so that you will scarcely 
find an individual throughout the whole community, but 
who will detect to you innumerable errors in administration, 
and convince you in the end, that had he been at the head of 
affairs, matters would have gone on a thousand times more 
prosperously. Strange ! that that government, which seems 
to be so generally understood, should invariably be so erro- 
neously administered— strange, that the talent of legislation, 
so prodigally bestowed, should be denied to the only man in 
the nation to whose station it is requisite. 

Thus it was in the present instance; not a man of all the 
herd of pseudo-politicians in New-Amsterdam, but was an 
oracle on topics of state, and could have directed public af- 
fairs incomparably better than Peter Stuyvesant. But so 
severe was the old governor m his disposition j that he would 



256 BEAUTIES OF 

never suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors by 
whom he was surrounded, to intrude his advice, and save the 
country from destruction. 

Scarcely, therefore, had he departed on his expedition 
against the Swedes, than the old factions of William Kieft's 
reign began to thrust their heads above water, and to gather 
together in political meetings, to discuss " the state of the 
nation." At these assemblages the busy burgomasters and 
their officious schepens made a very considerable figure. 
These worthy dignitaries were no longer the fat, well-fed, 
tranquil magistrates, that presided in the peaceful days of 
Wouter Van Twiller. On the contrary, being elected by 
the people, they formed in a manner a sturdy bulwark be- 
tween the mob and the administration. They were great 
candidates for popularity, and strenuous advocates for the 
rights of the rabble ; resembling in disinterested zeal the 
wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, or those virtuous 
patriots of modern days, emphatically denominated " the 
friends of the people." 

Under the tuition of these profound politicians, it is asto- 
nishing how suddenly enhghtened the swinish multitude be- 
came, in matters above their comprehensions. Cobblers, 
tinkers, and tailors, all at once felt themselves inspired, like 
those religious idiots, in the glorious times of monkish illu- 
mination ; and, without any previous study or experience, 
became instantly capable of directing all the movements of 
government. Nor must I neglect to mention a number of 
superannuated, wrong-headed old burghers, who had come 
over when boys, in the crew of the Goede Vromv, and were 
held up as infallible oracles by the enlightened mob. To 
suppose that a man who had helped to discover a country 
did not know how it ought to be governed, was preposte- 
rous in the extreme. It would have been deemed as much 
a heresy as, at the present day, to question the political ta- 
lents and universal infallibility of our old " heroes of '76" — 
and to doubt that he who had fought for a government, 
however stupid he might naturally be, was not competent to 
Jill any station under it. 

, But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination to go- 
vern his province without the assistance of his subjects, he 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 257 

felt highly incensed on his return to find the factious appear- 
ance they had assumed during his absence. His first mea- 
sure, therefore, was to restore perfect order, by prostrating 
the dignity of the sovereign people. 

He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one even- 
ing when the enlightened mob was gathered together, listen- 
ing to a patriotic speech from an inspired cobbler, the intrepid 
Peter, like his great namesake of all the Russias, all at once 
appeared among them, with a countenance sufficient to pe- 
trify a mill-stone. The whole meeting was thrown into 
consternation — the orator seemed to have received a para- 
lytic stroke in the very middle of a sublime sentence, and 
stood aghast with open mouth and trembling knees, whilst 
the words horror 1 tyranny ! liberty ! rights ! taxes ! death ! 
destruction ! and a deluge of other patriotic phrases came 
roaring from his throat, before he had power to close his 
lips. The shrewd Peter took no notice of the skulking 
throng around him, but advancing to the brawling bully 
ruffian, and drawing out a huge silver watch, which might 
have served in times of yore as a town-clock, and which is 
still retained by his descendants as a family curiosity, re- 
quested the orator to mend it and set it going. The orator 
humbly confessed it was utterly out of his power, as he was 
unacquainted with the nature of its construction. " Nay, 
but," said Peter, " try your ingenuity, man ; you see all the 
springs and wheels, and how easily the clumsiest hand may 
stop it, and pull it to pieces ; and why should it not be 
equally easy to regulate as to stop it ?" The orator de- 
clared that his trade was wholly different, he was a poor 
cobbler, and had never meddled with a watch in his life. 
That there were men skilled in the art, whose business it 
was to attend to those matters ; but for his part he should 
only mar the workmanship, and put the whole in confusion. 
" Why, harkee, master of mine," cried Peter, turning sud- 
denly upon him, with a countenance that almost petrified 
the patcher of shoes into a perfect lapstone — " dost thou 
pretend to meddle with the movements of government — to 
regulat(j and correct, and patch, and cobble, a complicated 
machire, the principles of which are above thy compreherf- 
sion, and its simplest operation too subtle for thy under- 

22* 



258 BEAUTIES OF 

standing, when thou canst not correct a trifling error iri a 
common piece of mechanism, the whole mystery of which 
is open to thy inspection ? — Hence with thee to the leather 
and stone, which are emblems of thy head ; cobble thy 
shoes, and confine thyself to the vocation for which heaven 
has fitted thee — But," elevating his voice until it made the 
welkin ring, " if ever I catch thee, or any of thy tribe, 
meddling again with the affairs of government — by St. 
Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's bastard of ye flea'd 
alive, and your hides stretched for drum-heads, that ye may 
thenceforth make a noise to some purpose!" 

This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it was ut- 
tered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. The 
hair of the orator rose on his head like his own swine's bris- 
tles, and not a knight of the thimble present but his heart 
died within him and he felt as though he could have verily 
escaped through the eye of a needle. 

But though this measure produced the desired effect in re- 
ducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure the 
popularity of the great Peter among the enlightened vulgar. 
Many accused him of entertaining highly aristocratic senti- 
ments and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians. 
Indeed there appeared to be some grounds for such an accu- 
sation, as he always carried himself with a very lofty sol- 
dier-like port, and was somewhat particular in his dress ; 
dressing himself, when not in uniform, in simple but rich 
apparel ; and was especially noted for having his sound leg 
(which was a very comely one) always arrayed in a red 
stocking and high-heeled shoe. Though a man of great 
simplicity of manners, yet there was something about him 
that repelled rude familiarity, while it encouraged frank, and 
even social intercourse. 

He likewise observed some appearance of court ceremony 
and etiquette. He received the common class of visiters on 
the stoop,* before his door, according to the custom of our 
Dutch ancestors. But when visiters were formally received ' 
in his parlour, it was expected they would appear in clean 

* Properly ?pelled stoch: the porch commonly built in front of Dutch houses, 
with benches on each side. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 259 

linen ; by no means to be bare-footed, and always to take 
their hats off. On public occasions he appeared with great 
pomp of equipage (for, in truth, his station required a httle 
show and dignity,) and always rode to church in a yellow 
wagon with flaming red wheels. 

These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned con- 
siderable discontent among the vulgar. They had been 
accustomed to find easy access to their former governors, 
and in particular had lived on terms of extreme familiarity 
with William the Testy. They therefore were very impa- 
tient of these dignified precautions, which discouraged in- 
trusion. But Peter Stuyvesant had his own way of think- 
ing in Ihese matters, and was a staunch upholder of the 
dignity of office. 

He always maintained that government to be the least 
popular, which is most open to popular access and control ; 
and that the very brawlers against court ceremony, and the 
reserve of men in power, would soon despise rulers among 
wh*om they found oven themselves to be of consequence. 
Such, at least, had been the case with the administration of 
William the Testy; who, bent on making himself popular, 
had listened to every man's advice, suffered every person to 
have admittance to his person at all hours ; and, in a word, 
treated every one as his thorough equal- By this means 
every scrub politician and public busybody was enabled to 
measure wits with him, and to find out the true dimensions, 
not only of his person, but his mind. And what great man 
can stand such scrutiny? 

It is the mystery that envelopes great men, that gives 
them half their greatness. We are always inclined to think 
highly of those who hold themselves aloof from our exami- 
nation. There is likewise a kind of superstitious reverence 
for office, which leads us to exaggerate the merits and abili- 
ties of men of power, and to suppose that they must be con- 
stituted different from other men. And, indeed, faith is as 
necessary in politics as in religion. It certainly is of the 
first importance, that a country should be governed by wise 
men ; but then it is almost equally important, that the peo- 
ple should believe them to be wise ; for this belief alone can 
produce willing subordination. 



260 BEAUTIES OF 

To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in rulers, 
the people should be allowed to see as little of them as pos- 
sible. He who gains access to cabinets, soon finds out by 
what foolishness the world is governed. He discovers that 
there is a quackery in legislation, as well as in every thing 
else ; that many a measure, which is supposed by the mil- 
lion to be the .result of great wisdom and deep deliberation, 
is the effect of mere chance, or perhaps of hair-brained ex- 
periment. That rulers have their whims and errors as well 
as other men, and after all are not so wonderfully superior 
to their fellow-creatures as he at first imagined ; since he 
finds that even his own opinions have had some weight with 
them. Thus awe subsides into confidence, confidence in- 
spires familiarity, and familiarity produces contempt. Peter 
Stuyvesant, on the contrary, by conducting himself with 
dignity and loftiness, was looked up to with great reverence. 
As he never gave his reasons for any thing he did, the pub- 
lic always gave iiim credit for very profound ones. Every 
movement, however intrinsically unimportant, was a matter 
of speculation ; and his very red stocking excited some re- 
spect, as being different from the stocking of other men. 

To these times we may refer the rise of family pride and 
aristocratic distinctions ;* and indeed I cannot but look back 
with reverence to the early planting of those mighty Dutch 
families, which have taken such vigorous root, and branched 
out so luxuriantly in our state. The blood which has flow- 
ed down uncontaminated through a succession of steady, 
virtuous generations, since the times of the patriarchs of 
Communipavv, must certainly be pure and worthy. And if 
so, then are the Van Rensellaers, the Van Zandts, the Van 
Homes, the Rutgers, the Bensons, the Brinkerhoffs, the 
Skermerhorns, and all the true descendants of the ancient 
Pavonians, the only legitimate nobility and real lords of the 
soil. 

I have been led to mention thcis particularly the well 

* In a work published many years after the time here treated of (in 1761, by C. 
W. A. M.) it is mentioned that Frederick Philipse was counted the richest Myn- 
heer in New-Yi>rk, and was said to have ivhole hogsheads of Indian money or 
wampum ; and had a son and daughter, who, according to the Dutcli custom, 
should divide it equally. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 261 

•authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch famihes, because 
I have noticed with great sorrow and vexation, that they have 
been somewhat elbowed aside in latter days, by foreign in- 
truders. It is really astonishing to behold how many great 
families have sprung up of late years, who pride themselves 
excessively on the score of ancestry. Thus he who can 
look up to his father without humiliation assumes not a little 
importance— he who can safely talk of his grandfather is 
still more vainglorious — -but he who can look back to his great 
grandfather without blushing is absolutely intolerable in his 
pretensions to family. — Bless us ! what a piece of work is 
here, between these mushrooms of an hour, and these 
mushrooms of a day ! 

But from what I have recounted in the former part of this 
chapter, I would not have my reader imagine that the great 
Peter was a tyrannical governor, ruling his subjects with a 
rod of iron — 'On the contrary, where the dignity of authority 
was not implicated, he abounded with generosity and cour- 
teous condescension. Tn fact he really believed, though I 
fear ray more enlightened republican readers will consider 
it a proof of his ignorance and illiberality, that in preventing 
the cup of social life from being dashed with the intoxicating 
ingredient of politics, he promoted the tranquillity and happi- 
ness of the people — and by detaching their minds from sub- 
jects which they could not understand, and which only 
tended to inflame their passions, he enabled them to attend 
more faithfully and industriously to their proper callings ; 
becoming more useful citizens and more attentive to their 
families and fortunes. 

So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he de- 
lighted to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, and 
for this purpose was a great promoter of holydays and 
public amusements. Under his reign was first introduced 
the custom of cracking eggs at Pass or Easter. New-Year's 
Day was also observed with extravagant festivity — and 
ushered in by the ringing of bells and firing of guns. Every 
house was a temple to the jolly god. Oceans of cherry- 
brandy, true hollands, and mulled cider, were set afloat on 
the occasion : and not a poor man in town but made it a 



262 BEAUTIES or 

point to get drunk, out of a principle of pure eGoflorny--*- 
taking in liquor enough to serve him half a year afteFward^ 

It would have done one's heart good also to have seen the 
valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers- and thei:r 
wives of a Saturday afternoon, under the great trees that 
spread their shade over the Battery, watching the young 
men and women as they danced on the green. Here he 
would smoke his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rugged 
toils of war in the sweet oblivious festivities of peace. He 
would occasionally give a nod of approbation to those of the 
young men who shuffled and kicked most vigorously, and 
now and then gave a hearty smack, in all honesty of soul^ 
to the buxom lass that held out longest, and tired down all 
her competitors, which she considered as infallible proofs of 
her being the best dancer. Once it is true the harmony of 
the meeting was rather interrupted. A young vrouw, of great 
figure in the gay world, and who, having lately come from 
Holland, of course led the fashions in the city, made her 
appearance in not more than half a dozen petticoats, and 
these too of most alarming shortness. — A universal whisper 
ran through the assembly ; the old ladies all felt shocked io 
the extreme, the young ladies blushed and felt excessively 
for the " poor thing," and even the governor himself was 
observed to be a little troubled in mind. To complete the 
astonishment of the good folks, she undertook, in the course 
of a jig, to describe some astonishing figures in algebra, 
which she had learned from a dancing master in Rotterdam. 
Whether she was too animated in flourishing her feet, or 
whether some vagabond Zephyr took the liberty of intruding 
his services, certain it is, that in the course of a grand evo- 
lution which would not have disgraced a modern ball roomg 
she made a most unexpected display — whereat the whole 
assembly was thrown into great admiration, several grave 
country members were not a little moved, and the good Pe- 
ter himself, who was a man of unparalleled modesty,, felt 
himself grievously scandalized. 

The shortness of the female dresses, which had continued 
in fashion ever since the days of William Kieft, had long 
offended his eye ; and though extremely adverse to meddling 
v/iih the petticoats of the ladies, yet he immediately recona- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 263 

mended that every one should be furnished with a flounce to 
the bottom. He likewise ordered that the ladies, and indeed 
the gentlemen, should use no other step in dancing than 
shuffle and turn, and double trouble ; and forbade, under pain 
of his high displeasure, any young lady thenceforth to at- 
tempt what was termed " exhibiting the graces." 

These were the only restrictions he ever imposed upon 
the sex ; and these were considered by them as tyrannical 
oppressions, and resisted with that becoming spirit always 
manifested by the gentle sex whenever their privileges are 
invaded. — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived, that 
if he attempted to push the matter any farther, there was 
danger gf their leaving off petticoats altogether ; so, like a 
wise man, experienced in the ways of women, he held his 
peace, and suffered them ever after to wear their petticoats 
and cut their capers as high as they pleased. 



Showing the great Difficulty Philosophers have had in 
peopling America — and how the Aborigines came to he 
begotten by Accident, to the great relief and Satisfac^ 
tion of the Author. 

The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular course 
of our history, is to ascertain, if possible, how this country 
was originally peopled ; a point fruitful of incredible embar- 
rassments ; for unless we prove that the aborigines did ab- 
solutely come from somewhere, it will be immediately 
asserted in this age of skepticism, that they did not come at 
all ; and if they did not come at all, then was this country 
never populated — a conclusion perfectly agreeable to the 
rules of logic, but wholly irreconcileable to every feeling of 
humanity, inasmuch as it must syllogistically prove fatal to 
the innumerable aborigines of this populous region. 

To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical 
annihilation so many millions of fellow creatures, how many 
wings of geese have been plundered ! what oceans of ink 



264 BEAUTIES OF 

have been benevolently drained ! and how many capacious 
heads of learned historians have been addled and for ever 
confounded ! I pause with reverential awe, when I contem- 
plate the ponderous tomes in different languages, with which 
they have endeavoured to solve this question, so important 
to the happiness of society, but so involved in clouds of in- 
penetrable obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged 
in the endless circle of hypothetical argument, and after 
leading us a weary chase through octavos, quartos, and fo- 
lios, has let us out, at the end of his work, just as wise as 
we were at the beginning. It was doubtless some philo- 
sophical wild-goose chase of the kind, that made the old 
poet Macrobius rail in such a passion at curiosity, which he 
anathematizes most heartily as " an irksome, agonizing care, 
a superstitious industry about unprofitable things, an itching 
humour to see what is not to be seen, and to be doing what 
signifies nothing when it is done." But to proceed : 

Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original 
population of this country, I shall say nothing, as they have 
already been touched upon in my last chapter. The claim- 
ants next in celebrity are the descendants of Abraham. 
Thus Christoval Colon (vulgarly called Columbus,) when ho 
first discovered the gold mines of Hispaniola, immediately 
concluded, with a shrewdness that would have done honour 
to a philosopher, that he had found the ancient Ophir, 
from whence Solomon procured the gold for embellishing 
the temple at Jerusalem: nay, Colon even imagined that he 
saw the remains of furnaces of veritable Hebraic construc- 
tion, employed in refining the precious ore. 

So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinating 
extravagance, was too tempting not to be immediately 
snapped at by the gudgeons of learning ; and accordingly, 
there were divers profound writers, ready to swear to its cor- 
rectness, and bring in their usual load of authorities and wise 
surmises, wherewithal to prop it up. Vatablus and Robertus 
Stephens declared nothing could be more clear ; Arius Mon- 
tanus, without the least hesitation, asserts that Mexico was 
the true Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the coun- 
try: while Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious 
writers, lug in a supposed prophecy of the fourth book of 



WASHINSTON IRVING. S65 

Esdras, which being inserted in the mighty hypothesis, like 
the key-stone of an arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual 
durability. 

Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly su- 
perstructure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite authors, 
with Hans de Laet, the great Dutchman, at their head ; and 
at one blow tumbles the whole fabric about their ears. Hans, 
in fact, contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the 
first settlements of this country, attributing all those equi- 
vocal symptoms, and traces of Christianity and Judaism, 
which have been said to be found in divers provinces of the 
New World, to the Devil, who has always aifected to coun- 
terfeit the worship of the true Deity. " A remark," says 
the knowing old Padre d'Acosta, " made by all good authors 
who have spoken of the religion of nations newly discovered, 
and founded besides on the authority of the fathers of the 
church.^'' 

Some writers again, among whom it is with great regret 
I am compelled to mention Lopes de Gomora and Juan de 
Leri, insinuate that the Canaanites, being driven from the 
land of promise by the Jews, were seized with such a panic 
that they fled, without looking behind them, until stopping 
to take breath, they found themselves safe in America. As 
they brought neither their national language, manners, nor 
features with them, it is supposed they left them behind in 
the hurry of their flight. I cannot give my faith to this 
opinion. 

I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, who 
being both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is enti- 
tled to great respect ; that North America was peopled by 
a strolling company of Norwegians, and that Peru was 
founded by a colony from China — Manco, or Mungo Capac, 
the first Incas, being himself a Chinese. Nor shall I more 
than barely mention, that father Kircher ascribes the settle- 
ment of America to the Egyptians, Budbeck to the Scandi- 
navians, Charron to the Gauls, Juffredus Petri to a skating 
party from Friesland, Milius to the Celtas, Marinocus the Si- 
cilian to the Romans, Le Comte to the Phoenicians, Postel 
to the Moors, Martin d' Angleria to the Abyssinians, together 

23 



M6 BEAUTIES OF 

with the sage surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland 
and the Orcades may contend for that honour. 

Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea 
that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, described by 
that dreaming traveller Marco Polo the Venetian ; or that 
it comprises the visionary island of Atlantis, described by 
Plato. Neither will I stop to investigate the heathenish as- 
sertion of Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe 
was originally furnished with an Adam and Eve ; or the 
more flattering opinion of Dr. Romayne, supported by many 
nameless authorities, that Adam was of the Indian race ; or 
the startling conjecture of BufFon, Helvetius, and Darwin, 
so highly honourable to mankind, that the whole human 
species is accidentally descended from a remarkable family 
of the monkeys ! 

This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me very 
suddenly and very ungraciously. I have often beheld the 
clown in a pantomime, while gazing in stupid wonder at the 
extravagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once electrified 
by a sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his shoul- 
ders. Little did I think at such times that it would ever fall 
to my lot to be treated with equal discourtesy, and that while 
I was quietly beholding these grave philosophers emulating 
the eccentric transformations of the hero of pantomime, they 
would on a sudden turn upon me and my readers, and with 
one hypothetical flourish metamorphose us into beasts ! I 
determined from that moment not to burn my fingers with 
any more of their theories, but content myself with detail- 
ing the diflerent methods by which they transported the de- 
scendants of these ancient and respectable monkeys, to this 
great field of theoretical warfare. 

This was done either by migrations by land or transmi- 
grations by water. Thus Padre Joseph d'Acosto enumerates 
three passages by land, first by the north of Europe, se- 
condly by the north of Asia, and thirdly by regions south- 
ward of the straits of Magellan. The learned Grotius 
marches his Norwegians by a pleasant route across frozen 
rivers and arms of the sea, through Iceland, Greenland, 
Estotiland, and Naremberga. And various writers, among 
whom are Angleria, De Plornn, and Buflbn, anxious for the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. S67 

accommodation of these travellers, have, fastened the two 
continents together by a strong chain of deductions — by 
which means they could pass over dryshod. But should 
even this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old gentleman, who 
compiles books and manufactures Geographies, has con- 
structed a natural bridge of ice, from continent to conti- 
nent, at the distance of four or five miles from Behring's 
straits — for which he is entitled to the grateful thanks of 
all the wandering aborigines who ever did or ever will pass 
over it. 

It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the wor- 
thy writers above quoted, could ever commence his work, 
without immediately declaring hostilities against every wri- 
ter who had treated on the same subject. In this particular, 
authors may be compared to a certain sagacious bird, which 
in building its nest is sure to pull to pieces the nests of all 
the birds in its neighbourhood. This unhappy propensity 
tends grievously to impede the progress of sound knowledge. 
Theories are at best but brittle productions, and when once 
committed to the stream, they should take care that like the 
notable pots which were fellow voyagers, they do not crack 
each other. 

For my part, when I beheld the sages I have quoted grave- 
ly accounting for unaccountable things, and discoursing thus 
wisely about matters for ever hidden from their eyes, like a 
blind man describing the 'glories of light, and the beauty 
and harmony of colours, I fell back in astonishment at the 
amazing extent of human ingenuity. 

If, cried I to myself, these learned men can weave whole 
systems out of nothing, what would be their productions 
were they furnished with substantial materials — if they can 
argue and dispute thus ingeniously about subjects beyond 
their knowledge, what would be the profundity of their ob- 
servations, did they but know what they were talking about ! 
Should old Rhadamanthus, when he comes to decide upon 
their conduct while on earth, have the least idea of the use- 
fulness of their labours, he will undoubtedly class them 
with those notorious wise men of Gotham, who milked a bull, 
twisted a rope of sand, and wove a velvet purse from a sow's 
ear. 



268 BEAUTIES OF 

My chief surprise is, that among the many writers I have 
noticed, no one has attempted to prove that this country was 
peopled from the moon — or that the first inhabitants floated 
hither on islands of ice, as white bears cruise about the 
northern oceans — or that they were conveyed hither by bal- 
loons, as modern aeronauts pass from Dover to Calais — or 
by witchcraft, as Simon Magus posted among the stars — or 
after the manner of the renowned Scythian Abaris, who, 
like the New-England witches on full blooded broomsticks 
made most unheard-of journeys on the back of a golden 
arrow, given him by the Hyperborean Apollo. 

But there is still one mode left by which this country 
could have been peopled, which I have reserved for the last, 
because I consider it worth all the rest ; it is — hy accident ! 
Speaking of the islands of Solomon, New-Guinea, and New- 
Holland, the profound father Charlevoix observes, " in fine, 
all these countries are peopled, and it is possible, some have 
been so by accident. Now if it could have happened in 
that manner, why might it not have been at the same time, 
and by the same means, with the other parts of the globe V 
This ingenious mode of deducing certain conclusions from 
possible premises, is an improvement on syllogistic skill, and 
proves the good father superior even to Archimedes, for he 
can turn the world without any thing to rest his lever upon. 
It is only surpassed by the dexterity with which the sturdy 
old Jesuit, in another place, cuts the gordian knot — " No- 
thing," says he, " is more easy. The inhabitants of both 
hemispheres are certainly the descendants of the same father. 
The common father of mankind received an express order 
from Heaven to people the world, and accordingly it has 
been peopled. To bring this about, it was necessary to 
overcome all difficulties in the way, a7id they have also been 
overcome r^ Pious Logician! How does he put all the 
herd of laborious theorists to the blush, by explaining in 
live words, v/hat it has cost them volumes to prove they 
know nothing about ! 

They have long been picking at the lock, and fretting at 
the latch, but the honest father at ouce unlocks the door by 
bursting it open, and when he has it once ajar, he is at full 
liberty to pour in as many nations as he pleases. This 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 269 

proves to a demonstration that a little piety is better than a 
cart-Ioad of philosophy, and is a practical illustration of 
that scriptural promise — " By faith ye shall move moun- 
tains." 

From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of 
others which I have consulted, but which are omitted through 
fear of fatiguing the unlearned reader — I can only draw 
the following conclusions, which, luckily however, are suffi- 
cient for my purpose — First, That this part of the world has 
actually been peopled (Q- E. D. :) to support which we have 
living proofs in the numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit 
it. Secondly, That it has been peopled in five hundred dif- 
ferent \yays, as proved by a cloud of authors, who from the 
positiveness of their assertions, seem to have been eye-wit- 
ness to the fact. Thirdly, That the people of this country 
had a variety of fathers^ which, as it may not be thought 
much to their credit by the common run of readers, the less 
we say on the subject the better. The question, therefore, 
I trust is for ever at rest. 



WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was de- 
scended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had 
successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the 
bench of magistracy in Rotterdam ; and who had comported 
themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety that 
they were never either heard or talked of — which, next to 
being universally applauded, should be the object of ambi- 
tion to all sage magistrates and rulers. 

His surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of the 
original Twijfler, which in English means doubter ; a name 
admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. For though 
he was a man shut up within himself like an oyster, and of 
such a profoundly reflective turn that he scarcely ever spoke 
except in monosyllables ; yet did he never make up his 

23* 



270 BEAUTIES or 

mind on any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted 
for by his adherents, who affirmed that he always conceived 
every subject on so comprehensive a scale that he had not 
room in his head to turn it over and examine both sides of 
it ; so that he always remained in doubt, merely in conse- 
quence of the astonishing magnitude of his ideas ! 

There are two opposite ways by which some men get 
into notice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a little, 
and the other by holding their tongues and not thinking at 
all. By the first many a vapouring superficial pretender 
acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts, — by the 
other, many a vacant dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest 
of birds, comes to be complimented by a discerning world, 
with all the attributes of wisdom. This, by the way, is a 
mere casual remark, which I would not for the universe 
have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. On the 
contrary, he was a very wise Dutchman, for he never said 
a foolish thing ; and of such invincible gravity that he was 
never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the course 
of a long and prosperous life. Certain, however, it is, there 
never was a matter proposed, however simple, and on which 
your common narrovv^-minded mortals would rashly deter- 
mine at the first glance, but what the renowned Wouter put 
on a mighty mysterious, vacant kind of look, shook his ca- 
pacious head, and having smoked for five minutes with re- 
doubled earnestness, sagely observed, that " he had his 
doubts about the matter ;"— which, in process of time, gain- 
ed him the character of a man slow of belief, and not easily 
imposed on. 

The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as regu- 
larly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had been 
moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary, as 
a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly 
five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in cir- 
cumference. His head was a perfect sphere, far excelling 
in magnitude that of the great Pericles (who was thence 
waggishly called Schenocephalus, or onion head)— indeed, 
of such stupendous dimensions was it, that dame Nature 
herself, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puz- 
zled to construct a neck capable of supporting it ; where- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 271 

fore she wisely declined tiie attempt, and settled it firmly on 
the top of his back-bone, just between the shoulders ; where 
it remained, as snugly bedded as a ship of war in the mud 
of Potowmac. His body was of an oblong form, particu- 
larly capacious at bottom ; which was wisely ordered by 
providence, seeing that he v/as a man of sedentary habits, 
and very averse to the idle labour of walking. His legs, 
.though exceeding short, were sturdy in proportion to the 
weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect he had not 
a little the appearance of a robustious beer barrel, standing 
on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, pre- 
sented a vast expanse perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by 
any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human 
countenance with what is termed expression. Two small 
gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of 
lesser magnitude, in a hazy firmament ; and his full-fed 
cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of every thing that 
went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked 
with dusky red, like a Spitzemburg apple. 

His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took 
his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; 
he smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remain- 
ing twelve of the f^ur-and-twenty. Such was the renowned 
Wouter Van Twiller — a true philosopher, for his mind was 
either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares 
and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, 
without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun 
revolved around it, or it round the sun ; and he had even 
watched for at least half a century, the smoke curling from 
his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with 
any of those numerous theories, by which a philosopher 
would have perplexed his brain, in accounting for its arising 
above the surrounding atmosphere. 

In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. 
He sat in a hu£i;e chair of solid oak hewn in the celebrated 
forest of the Hague, fabricated by an experienced Tim mer- 
man of Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the arms 
and feet, into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws. 
Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought 
wdth jasmin and amber, which had been presented to a stadt- 



272 BEAUTIES OF 

holder of Holland at the conclusion of a treaty with one of 
the petty Barbary powers. In this stately chair would he 
sit, and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his 
right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eyes for 
hours together upon a Httle print of Amsterdam, which hung 
in a black frame against the opposite wall of the council 
chamber. Nay, it has even been said, that when any deli- 
beration of extraordinary length and intricacy was on the 
carpet, the renowned Wouter would absolutely shut his eyes 
for full two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed 
by external objects ; and at such times the internal commo- 
tion of his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural 
sounds, which his admirers declared were merely the 
noise of conflict made by his contending doubts and opi- 
nions. 

It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect 
these biographical anecdotes of the great man under consi- 
deration. The facts respecting him were so scattered and 
vague, and divers of them so questionable in point of au- 
thenticity, that I have had to give up the search after many, 
and decline the admission of still more, which would have 
tended to heighten the colouring of his portrait. 

I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the per- 
son and habits of the renowned Van Twiller, from the con- 
sideration that he was not only the first, but also the best 
governor that ever presided over this ancient and respecta- 
ble province ; and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign 
that I do not find, throughout the whole of it, a single in- 
stance of any offender being brought to punishment ; — a 
most indubitable sign of a merciful governor and a case un- 
paralleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious King Log, 
from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a 
lineal descendant. 

The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate, 
like that of Solomon, or to speak more appropriately, like 
that of the illustrious governor of Barataria, was distinguish- 
ed by an example of legal acumen, that gave flattering pre- 
sage of a wise and equitable administration. The very 
morning after he had been solemnly installed in office, and 
at the moment that he was making his breakfast from a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 273 

prodigious earthern dish, filled with milk and Indian pud- 
ding, he was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one 
Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of 
New-Amsterdam, who complained bitterly of one Barent 
Bleecker, inasmuch as he fraudulently refused to come to a 
settlement of accounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance 
in favour of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I 
have already observed, was a man of few words ; he was 
likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying writings, or being 
disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened attentively to 
the statement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasion- 
al grunt, as he shovelled a mighty spoonful of Indian pud- 
ding into his mouth — either as a sign that he relished the 
dish, or comprehended the story : he called unto him his 
constable, and pulling out of his breeches pocket a huge 
jack-knife, despatched it after the defendant as a summons, 
accompanied by his tobacco box as a warrant. 

This summary process was as effectual in those simple 
days as was the seal ring of the great Haroun Alraschid 
among the true believers. The two parties, being confront- 
ed before him, each produced a book of accounts, wu'itten in 
a language and character, that would have puzzled any but 
a high Dutch commentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyp- 
tian obelisks, to understand. The sage Wouter took them 
one after the other, and having poised them in his hands, 
and attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell 
straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for half an 
hour without saying a word ; at length, laying his finger 
beside his nose, and shutting his eyes for a moment, with 
the air of a man who has just caught a subtle idea by the 
tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, puffed forth a 
column of tobacco smoke, and with a marvellous gravity 
and solemnity pronounced — that having carefully counted 
over the leaves, and weighed the books, it was found, that 
one was just as thick and as heavy as the other — therefore 
it was the final opinion of the court, that the accounts were 
equally balanced— therefore Wandle should give Barent a 
receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt— -and the 
constable should pay the costs. 

This decision being straightway made known, diffused 



274 BEAUTIES OF 

general joy throughout New-Amsterdam ; for the people im- 
mediately perceived, that they had a very wise and equita- 
ble magistrate to rule over them. But its happiest effect 
was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout the 
whole of his administration ; and the office of constable fell 
into such decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts 
known in the province for many years. T am the more par- 
ticular in dwelling on this transaction, not only because I 
deem it one of the most sage and righteous judgments on re- 
cord, and well worthy the attention of modern magistrates, 
but because it was a miraculous event in the history of the 
renowned Wouter — being the only time he was ever known 
to come to a decision, in the whole course of his life. 



The' Grand Council of New-Amsterdam — with Reasons 
why an Mderman should he Fat, 

To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous business of 
legislation, a board of magistrates was appointed, which 
presided immediately over the police. This potent body 
consisted of a schout or bailiff, with powers between those 
of the present mayor and sheriff; five burgermeesters, who 
were equivalent to aldermen ; and five schepens, who offici- 
ated as scrubs, sub-devils, or bottle-holders, to the burger- 
meesters, in the same manner as do assistant aldermen to 
their principals at the present day — it being their duty to 
fill the pipes of ihe lordly burgermeesters, hunt the markets 
for delicacies for corporation dinners, and to discharge such 
othpr little offices of kindness, as were occasionally required. 
It was, moreover, tacitly understood, though not specifically 
enjoined, that they should consider themselves as butts for 
the blunt wits of the burgermeesters, and should laugh most 
heartily at all their jokes ; but this last was a duty as rarely 
called in action in those days as it is at present, and was 
shortly remitted, in consequence of the tragical death of a 
fat little schepen, who actually died of suffocation in an un- 



WASHINeTON IRVING. 275 

successful effort to force a laugh at one of burger meester 
Van Zandt's best jokes. 

In return for these humble services, they were permitted 
to say, yes and no at the council board, and to have that en- 
viable privilege, the run of the public kitchen ; being gra- 
ciously permitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at all those 
snug junketings, and public gormandizings, for which the 
ancient magistrates were equally famous with their more 
modern successors. The post of schepen, therefore, like 
that of assistant alderman, was eagerly coveted by all your 
burghers of a certain description, who have a huge relish for 
good feeding, and an humble ambition to be great men in a 
small way — who thirst after a little brief authority, that shall 
render them the terror of the alms-house and the bridewell 
— that shall enable them to lord it over obsequious poverty, 
vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger-driven dis- 
honesty—that shall place in their hands the lesser, but gall- 
ing scourge of the law, and give to their beck a houndlike 
pack of catchpoles and bum-bailiffs — tenfold greater rogues 
than the culprits they hunt down ! — My readers will excuse 
this sudden warmth, which I confess is unbecoming of a 
grave historian ; but I have a mortal antipathy to catchpoles, 
bum-bailiffs, and little great men. 

The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with 
those of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and 
intellect, than in prerogative and privilege. The burgo- 
masters, like our aldermen, were generally chosen by 
weight ; and not only the weight of the body, but likewise 
the weight of the head. It is a maxim practically observed 
in all honest, plain thinking, regular cities, that an alder- 
man should be fat — and the wisdom of this can be proved 
to a certainty. That the body is in some measure an 
image of the mind, or rather that the mind is moulded to 
the body, like melted lead to the clay in which it is cast, has 
been insisted on by many men of science, who have made 
human nature their pec^iar study. For as a learned gen- 
tleman of our own city observes, " there is a constant rela- 
tion between the moral character of all intelligent creatures 
and their physical constitution — between their habits and the 
structure of their bodies." Thus we see, that a lean, spare, 



276 BEAUTIES OP 

diminutive body is generally accompanied by a petulant, 
restless, meddling mind. Either the mind wears down the 
body by its continual motion ; or else the body, not afford- 
ing the mind sufficient house-room, keeps it continually in a 
state of fretfulness, tossing and worrying about, from the 
uneasiness of its situation. Whereas your round, sleet, fat, 
unwieldy periphery is ever attended by a mind like itself, 
tranquil, torpid, and at ease ; and we may always observe, 
that your well-fed, robustious burghers are in general very 
tenacious of their ease and comfort ; being great enemies to 
noise, discord, and disturbance: and surely none are more 
likely to study the public tranquillity than those who are 
careful of their own. Whoever hears of fat men heading a 
riot, or herding together in turbulent mobs? — No — no — it is 
your lean, hungry men, who are continually worrying soci- 
ety, and setting the whole community by the ears. 

The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently at- 
tended to by Philosophers of the present age, allows to every 
man three souls : one immortal and rational, seated in the 
brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body — a second 
consisting of the surly and irascible passions, which, like 
belligerent powers, lie encamped around the heart — a third 
mortal and sensual, destitute of reason, gross and brutal in 
its propensities, and enchained in the belly, that it may not 
disturb the divine soul, by its ravenous bowlings. Now, 
according to this excellent theory, what can be more clear, 
than that your fat alderman is most likely to have the most 
regular and well conditioned mind. His head is like a huge, 
spherical chamber, containing a prodigious mass of soft 
brains, whereon the rational soul lies softly and snugly 
couched, as on a feather bed ; and the eyes, which are the 
windows of the bed-chamber, are usually half closed, that 
its slumberings may not be disturbed by external objects. 
A mind thus comfortably lodged, and protected from dis- 
turbance, is manifestly most likely to perform its functions 
with regularity and ease. By dint of good feeding, morever, 
the mortal and malignant soul, which is confined in the belly, 
and which by its raging and roaring, puts the irritable soul 
in the neighbourhood of the heart in an intolerable passion, 
and thus renders men crusty and quarrelsome when hun- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 277 

gry — is completely pacified, silenced, and put to rest; 
whereupon a host of honest good-fellow qualities, and kind- 
hearted affections, which had lain in perdue, slily peeping 
out of the loopholes of the heart, finding this Cerberus asleep, 
do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and all in their holiday 
suits, and gambol up and down the diaphragm — disposing 
their possessor to laughter, good humour, and a thousand 
friendly offices towards his fellow mortals. 

As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, think 
but very little, they are less likely to differ and wrangle 
about favourite opinions ; and as they generally transact 
business ypon a hearty dinner, they are naturally disposed 
to be lenient and indulgent in the administration of their 
duties. Charlemagne was conscious of this, and therefore 
(a pitiful measure, for which I can never forgive him,) 
ordered in his cartularies, that no judge should hold a 
court of justice, except in the morning, on an empty sto- 
mach. — A rule v»'hich, I warrant, bore hard upon all the 
poor culprits in his kingdom. The more enlightened and 
humane generation of the present day have taken an op- 
posite course, and have so managed that the aldermen 
are the best fed men in the community ; feasting lustily on 
the fat things of the land, and gorging so heartily oysters 
and turtle, that in process of time they acquire the activity 
of the one, and the form, the waddle, and the green fat of 
the other. The consequence is, as I have just said ; these 
luxurious feastings do produce such a dulcet equanimity and 
repose of the soul, rational and irrational, that their transac- 
tions are proverbial for unvarying monotony ; and the pro- 
found laws, which they enact in their dozing moments, amid 
the labours of digestion, are quietly suffered to remain as 
dead letters, and never enforced, when awake. In a word, 
your fair round bellied burgomaster, like a full fed mastiff, 
dozes quietly at the house door, always at home, and always 
at hand to watch over its safety : but as to electing a lean, 
meddling candidate to the office, as has now and then been 
done, I would as lief put a greyhound to watch the house, 
or a race-horse to drag an ox-wagon. 

The burgomasters 'then, as I have already mentioned, 
were wisely chosen bv weight, and the schepens or assist- 
' " 24 



278 BEAUTIES OF 

ant Alderman, were appointed to attend upon them, and 
help them to eat ; but the latter in the course of time, when 
they have been fed and fattened into sufficient bulk of body 
and drowsiness of brain, became very eligible candidates 
for the burgomasters' chair ; have fairly eaten themselves 
into office, as a mouse eats its way into a comfortable lodg- 
ment in a goodly blue-nosed, skimmed milk, New-England 
cheese. 



ICHABOD CRANE AND THE GALLOPING 

HESSIAN, 



FROM THE SKETCH-BOOK. 



It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, 
heavy-hearted, and crest-fallen, pursued his travel home- 
wards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above 
Tarry-Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in the 
afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far be- 
low him, the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste 
of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, rid- 
ing quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of 
midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watch-dog 
from the opposite shore of the Hudson ! but it was so vague 
and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this 
faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long- 
drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would 
sound far, far off, from some farm-house away among the 
hills — but it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No 
signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melan- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 279 

choly chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a 
buli-frog, from a neighbouring marsh, as if sleeping uncom- 
fortably, and turning suddenly in his bed. 

All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in 
the afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollection. 
The night grew darker and darker ; the stars seemed to sink 
deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them 
from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. 
He was, moreover, approaching the very place where many 
of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the 
centre of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which tow- 
ered like h giant above all the other trees of the neighbour- 
hood, and formed a kind of land-mark. Its limbs were 
gnarled, and fantastic, large enough to form trunks of ordi- 
nary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising 
again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story 
of the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard 
by ; and was universally known by the name of Major An- 
dre's tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture 
of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the 
fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of 
strange sights, and doleful lamentations told concerning it. 

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to 
whistle : he thought his whistle was answered ; it was but 
a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he 
approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something 
white, hanging in the midst of the tree ; he paused and ceas- 
ed whisthng ; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that 
it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning, 
and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan 
— his teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the sad- 
dle : It was but the rubbing of one huge branch upon 
another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He 
passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook 
crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded 
glen, known by the name of Wiley's swamp. A few rough 
logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. 
On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, 
a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape 



280 BEAUTIES OF 

vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this 
bridge, was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot 
that the unfortunate Andre was captured, and under the 
covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen 
concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been 
considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of 
the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark. 

As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump ; 
he summed up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse 
half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash 
briskly across the bridge ; but instead of starting forward, 
the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran 
broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased 
with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked 
lustily vi^ith the contrary foot ; it was all in vain ; his steed 
started, it is true, but it was only to plunge into the opposite 
side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. 
The schoolmaster now bestowed both wliip and heel upon 
the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, 
snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the 
bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider 
sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy 
tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of 
Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin 
of the brook, he beheld something huge and misshapen, 
black and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up 
in gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon 
the traveller. 

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head 
with terror. What was to be done ? To turn and fly was 
now too late ; and besides, what chance was there of escap- 
ing ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon 
the wings of the wind ? Summoning up, therefore, a show 
of courage, lie demanded in stammering accents — " Who 
are you ?" He received no reply. He repeated his demand 
in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. 
Once more he cudgelled the inflexible sides of old Gunpow- 
der, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fer- 
vour into a psalm tune. 

Just then the shadowy object of alarm put himself in mo- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 281 

tion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the 
middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, 
yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be 
ascertained. Fie appeared to be a horseman of large dimen- 
sions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. 
He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept 
aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side 
of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and 
waywardness. 

Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight com- 
panion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom 
Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, 
in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, 
quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, 
and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind — the other did 
the same. His heart began to sink within him ; he endea- 
voured to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue 
clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a 
stave. There was something in the moody and dogged 
silence of this pertinacious companion, that was mysterious 
and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On 
mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his 
fellow traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, 
and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on per- 
ceiving that^'he was headless! — but his horror was still 
more increased, on observing that the head, which should 
have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the 
pommel of the saddle ; his terror rose to desperation ; he 
rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hop- 
ing by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip — 
but the spectre started full jump with him. Away then 
they dashed, through thick and thin ; stones flying, and 
sparks flashing, at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments 
fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away 
over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. 

They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy 
Hollow ; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a de- 
mon, instead of keeping up to it, made an opposite turn, and 
plunged headlong down the hill to the left. This road leads 

through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter 

24* 



282 BEAUTIES 0¥ 

of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in gobUn sto- 
ry, and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands 
the whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider 
an apparent advantage in the chase; but just as he had got 
half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave 
way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it 
by the pommel, and endeavoured to hold it firm, but in vain ; 
and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpow- 
der round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he 
heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment 
the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath passed across his 
mind — for it was his Sunday saddle ; but this was no time 
for petty fears ; the goblin was hard on his haunches ; and 
(unskilful rider that he was !) he had much ado to maintain 
his seat ; sometimes slipping on one side, and sometimes on 
another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's 
back bone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave 
him asunder. 

An opening of the trees nov/ cheered him with the hopes 
that the Church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflec- 
tion of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that 
he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dim- 
ly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place 
where Brom Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeared. 
" U I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am 
safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and 
blowing close behind him ; he even fancied that he felt his 
hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old 
Gunpowder sprung upon the bridge ; he thundered over the 
resounding planks ; he gained the opposite side ; and now 
Ichabod cast a look behind him to see if his pursuer should 
vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. 
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the 
very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavoured 
to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 
his cranium with a tremendous crash — he was tumbled 
headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and 
the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. 

The next morning the old horse was found without his 



V/ASIIINGTON IRVING. 28S 

saddle, and with the bridie under his feet, soberly cropping 
the grass at his master's gate, Ichabod did not make his 
appearance at breakfast— dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. 
The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and strolled idly 
about the banks of the brook ; but no schoolmaster. Hans 
Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness about the 
late of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set 
on foot, and after diligent investigation, they came upon his 
traces. In one part of the road leading to the church, was 
found the saddle trampled in the dirt ; the tracks of horses' 
hoofs deeply dented on the road, and evidently at furious 
speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank 
of a bfoad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and 
black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and 
close beside it a shattered pumpkin. 

The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmas- 
ter was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as execu- 
tor of his estate, examined the bundle Vv'hich contained all 
his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a 
half; two stocks for the neck ; a pair or two of worsted 
stockings ; and an old pair of corduroy small-clothes ; a rus- 
ty razor ; a book of psalm tunes, full of dog's ears ; and a 
broken pitch-pipe. As to the books and furniture of the 
schoolhouse, they belonged to the community, except Cot- 
ton Mather's History of Witchcraft, a New-England Alma- 
nac, and a book of dreams and fortune telling; in which 
last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in 
several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in ho- 
nour of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and 
the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by 
Hans Van Ripper ; who from that time forward determined 
to send his children no more to school ; observing, that he 
never knew any good come of this same reading and writ- 
ing. Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he 
had received his quarter's pay but a day or two before, he 
must have had about his person at the time of his disappear- 
ance. 

The mysterious event caused much speculation at the 
church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gos- 
sips were collected in the church-yard, at the bridge, and at 



284 BEAUTIES OP 

the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been found. The 
stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others 
were called to mind ; and when they had diligently consid- 
ered them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the 
present case, they shook their heads, and came to the con- 
clusion that Ichabod had been carried off by the galloping 
Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody's debt, no- 
body troubled his head any more about him ; the school 
was removed to a different quarter of the hollow, and ano- 
ther pedagogue reigned in his stead. 

It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New 
York on a visit several years after, and from whom this ac- 
count of the ghostl}'- adventure was received, brought home 
the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive ; that he 
had left the neighbourhood partly through fear of the gob- 
blin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at 
having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress ; that he had 
changed his quarters to a distant part of the country ; had 
kept school and studied law at the same time ; had been ad- 
mitted to the bar, turned politician, electioneered, written for 
the newspapers, and finally had been made a justice of the 
Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who shortly after his 
rival's disappearance, conducted the blooming Katarina in 
triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly 
knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and 
always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pump- 
kin ; which led some to suspect that he knew more about 
the matter than he chose to tell. 



ON GREATNESS. 

We have more than once, in the course of our work, been 
most jocosely familiar with great personages ,* and, in truth, 
treated them with as little ceremony, respect, and considera- 
tion, as if they had been our most particular friends. Now, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 285 

we would not sufler the mortification of having our readers 
even suspect us of an intimacy of the kind ; assuring them 
we are extremely choice in our intimates, and uncommonly 
circumspect in avoiding connexions with all doubtful char- 
acters ; particularly pimps, bailiffs, Iotter3^-brokers, cheva- 
liers of industry, and great men. The world in general is 
pretty well aware of what is to be understood by the former 
classes ^f delinquents: but as the latter has never, I believe, 
been specifically defined, and as we are determined to in- 
struct our readers to the extent of our abilities, and their 
limited comprehension, it may not be amiss here to let them 
know what we understand by a great man. 

First, therefore, let us (editors and kings are always plu- 
ral) premise, that there are two kinds of greatness ; — one 
conferred by heaven — the exalted nobility of the soul ; — 
the other a spurious distinction, engendered by the mob, and 
lavished upon its favourites. The former of these distinc- 
tions we have already contemplated with reverence ; the 
latter we will take this opportunity to strip naked before our 
unenlightened readers ; so that if by chance any of them 
are held in ignominious thraldom by this base circulation of 
false coin, they may forthwith emancipate themselves from 
such inglorious delusion. 

It is a fictitious value given to individuals by public ca- 
price, as bankers give an impression to a worthless slip of 
paper, thereby giving it a currency for infinitely more than 
its intrinsic value. Every nation has its peculiar coin, and 
peculiar great men ; neither of which will, for the most part, 
pass current out of the country where they are stamped. 
Your true mob-created great man, is like a note of one of 
the little New England banks, and his value depreciates in 
proportion to the distance from home. In England, a great 
man is he who has most ribands and gew-gaws on his coat, 
most horses in his carriage, most slaves in his retinue, or most 
toad-eaters at hi§ table ; in France he who can most dexterous- 
ly flourish his heels above "his head — Duport is most incontes- 
tibly the greatest man in France! — when the Emperor is ab- 
sent. The greatest man in China is he who can trace his an- 
cestry up to the moon ; and in this country our great men 
may generally hunt down their pedigree until it burrows in 



286 BEAUTIES OF 

the dirt like a rabbit. To be concise ; our great men are 
those who are most expert at crawling on all -fours, and have 
the happiest facility in dragging and winding themselves 
along in the dirt like very reptiles. This may seem a para- 
dox to many of my readers, who, with great good nature be 
it hinted, are too stupid to look beyond the mere surface of 
our invaluable writings ; and often pass over the knowing 
allusion, and poignant meaning, that is slyly couc|j|^ng be- 
neath. It is for the benefit of such helpless ignorants, who 
have no other creed but the opinion of the mob, that I shall 
trace, as far as it is possible to follow him in his ascent from 
insignificance, — the rise, progress, and completion of a lit- 
tle great man. 

In a logocracy, to use the sage Mustapha's phrase, it is 
not absolutely necessary to the formation of a great man 
that he should be either wise or valiant, upright or honour- 
able. On the contrary, daily experience shows that these 
qualities rather impede his preferment, inasmuch as they 
are prone to render him too inflexibly erect, and are directly 
at variance with that willowy suppleness which enables a 
man to wind, and twist, through all the nooks and turns 
and dark winding passages that lead to greatness. The 
grand requisite for climbing the rugged hill of populari- 
ty, — the summit of which is the seat of power, — is to be 
useful. And here once more, for the sake of our readers, 
who are of course not so wise as ourselves, I must explain 
what we understand by usefulness. The horse, in his native 
state, is wild, swift, impetuous, full of majesty, and of a 
most generous spirit. It is then the animal is noble, exalt- 
ed, and useless. But entrap him, manacle him, cudgel 
him, break down his lofty spirit, put the curb into his 
mouth, the load upon his back, and reduce him into servile 
obedience to the bridle and the lash, and it is then he be- 
comes useful. Your jackass is one of the most useful ani- 
mals in existence. If my readers do not now understand 
what I mean by usefulness, I gi^e them all up for most ab- 
solute nincoms. 

To rise in this country, a man must first descend. The 
aspiring politician may be compared to that indefatigable 
insect called the tumbler, pronounced by a distinguished 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 287 

personage to be the only industrious animal in Virginia ; 
which buries itself in filth, and works ignobly in the dirt, 
until it forms a little ball of dirt, which it rolls laboriously 
along, like Diogenes in his tub ; sometimes head, sometimes 
tail foremost, pilfering from every rat and mud hole, and 
increasing its ball of greatness by the contributions of the 
kennel. Just so the candidate for greatness : — he plunges 
into that mass of obscenity, the mob ; labours in dirt and 
obHvion, and makes unto himself the rudiments of a popu- 
lar name from the admiration and praises of rogues, igno- 
ramuses, and blackguards. His name once started, onward 
he goes' struggling and puffing, and pushing it before him ; 
collecting new tributes from the dregs and offals of the land 
as he proceeds, until having gathered together a mighty mass 
of popularity, he mounts it in triumph, is hoisted into office, 
and becomes a great man, and a ruler in the land. — All this 
will be clearly illustrated by a sketch of a worthy of the 
kind, who sprung up under my eye, and was hatched from 
pollution by the broad rays of popularity, which, like the 
sun, can " breed maggots in a dead dog." 

Timothy Dabble was a young man of very promising 
talents ; for he wrote a fair hand, and had thrice won the 
silver medal at a country academy ; he was also an orator, 
for he talked with emphatic volubility, and could argue a 
full hour without taking either side, or advancing a single 
opinion ; he had still farther requisites for eloquence ; for he 
made very handsome gestures, had dimples in his cheeks 
when he smiled, and enunciated most harmoniously through" 
his nose. In short, nature had certainly marked him out 
for a great man ; for though he was not tall, yet he added 
at least half an inch to his stature by elevating his head,, 
and assumed an amazing expression of dignity by turning 
up his nose and curling his nostrils in a style of conscious 
superiority. Convinced by these unequivocal appearances, 
Dabble's friends, in full caucus, one and all declared that he 
was undoubtedly born to be a great man, and it would be 
his own fault if he were not one. Dabble was tickled with 
an opinion which coincided so happily with his own, — for 
vanity, in a confidential whisper, had given him the like in- 
timation ; and he reverenced the judgment of his friends be- 



BEAUTIES OF 

cause they thought so highly of himself ;— accordingly he 
set out with a determination to become a great man, and to 
start in the scrub-race for honour and renown. How to at- 
tain the desired prizes was, however, the question. He knew 
by a kind of instinctive feeling, which seems peculiar to 
grovelling minds, that honour, and its better part — profit, 
would never seek him out ; that they would never knock at 
his door and crave admittance; but must be courted and 
toiled after, and earned. He therefore strutted forth in the 
highways, the market-places, and the assemblies of the peo- 
ple; ranted like a true cockerel orator about virtue, and pa- 
triotism, and liberty, and equality, and himself. Full many 
a political v/ind-mill did he battle with; and full many a 
time did he talk himself out of breath, and his hearers out 
of their patience. But Dabble found to his vast astonish- 
ment, that there was not a notorious political pimp at a ward 
meeting but could out-talk him ; — and what was still more 
mortifying, there was not a notorious political pimp but was 
more noticed and caressed than himself. The reason was 
simple enough ; while he harangued about principles, the 
others ranted about men ; where he reprobated a political 
error, they blasted a political character : — they were, conse- 
quently, the most useful ; for the great object of our politi- 
cal disputes is not who shall have the honour of emancipat- 
ing the community from the leading-strings of delusion, but 
who shall have the profit of holding the strings and leading 
the community by the nose. 

Dabble was Ukewise very loud m his professions of integ- 
rity, incorruptibility, and disinterestedness; words, which, 
from being filtered and refined through newspapers and elec- 
tion handbills, have lost their original signification ; and in 
the political dictionary are synonymous with empty pockets, 
itching palms, and interested ambition. He, in addition to 
all this, declared that he would support none but honest 
men ; but unluckily as but Cew of these offered themselves 
to be supported, Dabble's services were seldom required. — 
He pledged himself never to engage in party schemes, or 
party politics, but to stand up solely for the broad interests 
of his country ; — so he stood alone and what is the same 
thing, he stood still ; for, in this country, he who does not 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 289 

side with either party, is like a body in a vacuum between 
two planets, and must for ever remain motionless. 

Dabble was immeasurably surprised that a man so honest, 
so disinterested, and so sagacious withal, and one too who 
had the good of his country so much at heart should thus 
remain unnoticed and unapplauded. A little worldly advice, 
whispered in his ear by a shrewd old politician, at once ex- 
plained the whole mystery. " He who would become great," 
said he, " must serve an apprenticeship to greatness ; and 
rise by regular gradation, hke the master of a vessel, who 
commences by being scruB and cabin-boy. He must fag in 
the train of great men, echo all their sentiments, become 
their toad-eater and parasite, — laugh at all their jokes ; and 
above all, endeavour to make them laugh ; if you only now 
and then make a man laugh, your fortune is made. Look 
but about you, youngster, and you will not see a single little 
great man of the day but has his miserable herd of retain- 
ers, who yelp at his heels, come at his whistle, worry who- 
ever he points his finger at, and think themselves fully re- 
warded by sometimes snapping up a crumb that falls from 
the great man's table. Talk of patriotism, virtue, and incor- 
ruptibility ! tut, man 1 they are the very qualities that scare 
munificence, and keep patronage at a distance. You might 
as well attempt to entice crows with red rags and gunpow- 
der. Lay all these scarecrow virtues aside, and let this be 
your maxim, that a candidate for political eminence is like 
a dried herring ; he never becomes luminous until he is cor- 
rupt." 

Dabble caught with hungry avidity these congenial doc- 
trines, and turned into his predestined channel of action 
with the force and rapidity of a stream which has for awhile 
been restrained from its natural course. He became what 
nature had fitted him to be ; — his tone softened down from 
arrogant self-sufficiency to the whine of fawning solicitation. 
He mingled in the caucuses of the sovereign people; adapt- 
ed his dress to a similitude of dirty raggedness ; argued 
most logically with those who were of his own opinion ; and 
slandered, with all the malice of impotence, exalted charac- 
ters whose orbit he despaired ever to approach : — -just as 
that scoundrel midnight thief, the owl, hoots at the blessed 

25 



290 BEAUTIES OF 

light of the sun, whose glorious lustre he dares never con- 
template. He likewise applied himself to discharging faith- 
fully the honourable duties of a partisan ; he poached about 
for private slanders, and ribald anecdotes ; he folded hand- 
bills — he even wrote one or two himself, which he carried 
about in his pocket and read to every body ; he became a 
secretary at ward-meetings, set his hand to divers resolu- 
tions of patriotic import^, and even once went so far as to 
make a speech, in which he proved that patriotism was a 
virtue ; — the reigning bashaw a great man ; — that this was 
a free country, and he himself An arrant and incontestable 
buzzard ! 

Dabble was now very frequent and devout in his visits to 
those temples of politics, popularity, and smoke, the ward 
porter-houses ; those true dens of equality, where all ranks, 
ages, and talents, are brought down to the dead level of rude 
familiarity .^ — 'Twas here his talents expanded, and his genius 
swelled up to its proper size ; like the loathsome toad, which 
shrinking from balmy airs, and jocund sunshine, finds his 
congenial home in caves and dungeons, and there nourishes 
his venom, and bloats his deformity. 'Twas here he revelled 
with the swinish multitude in their debauches on patriotism 
and porter ; and it became an even chance whether Dabble 
would turn out a great man or a great drunkard. — But Dab- 
ble in all this kept steadily in his eye the only deity he ever 
worshipped — his interest. Having by his familiarity ingra- 
tiated himself with the mob, he became wonderfully potent 
and industrious at elections ; knew all the dens and cellars 
of profligacy and intemperance ; brought more negroes to the 
polls, and knew to a greater certainty where votes could be 
bought for beer, than any of his contemporaries. His exer- 
tions in the cau^e, his persevering industry, his degrading 
compliance, his unresisting humility, his steadfast dependence, 
at length caught the attention of one of the leaders of the par- 
ty ; who was pleased to observe that Dabble was a very useful 
fellow, who would go all lengths. From that moment his 
fortune was made; — he was hand and glove with orators 
and slang-whangers ; basked in the sun-shine of great men's 
smiles, and had the honour, sundry times, of shaking hands 
with dignitaries, and drinking out of the same pot with them 
at a porter-house ! ! 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 291 

I will not fatigue myself with tracing this caterpillar in his 
slimy progress from worm to butterfly ; suffice it that Dabble 
bowed and bowed, and fawned, and sneaked, and smirked, 
and libelled, until one would have thought perseverance itself 
would have settled down into despair. There was no know- 
ing how long he might have lingered at a distance from his 
hopes, had he not luckily got tarred and feathered for some 
of his electioneering manoeuvres — this was the making of 
him ! Let not my readers stare — tarring and feathering 
here is equal to pillory and cropped ears in England ; and 
either of these kinds of martyrdom will ensure a patriot the 
sympathy and suffrages of a faction. His partisans, for 
even he had his partisans, took his case into consideration 
— he had been kicked and cuffed, and disgraced, and dis- 
honoured in the cause — he had licked the dust at the feet of 
the mob — he was a faithful drudge, slow to anger, of invinci- 
ble patience, of incessant assiduity — a thorough going tool, 
who could be curbed, and spurred, and directed at pleasure 
— in short he had all the important qualifications for a little 
great man, and he was accordingly ushered into office amid 
the , acclamations of the party. The leading men compli- 
mented his usefulness, the multitude his republican simplici- 
ty, and the slang-whangers vouched for his patriotism. Since 
his elevation he has discovered indubitable signs of having 
been destined for a great man. His nose has acquired an 
additional elevation of several degrees, so that now he ap- 
pears to have bidden adieu to this world, and to have set his 
thoughts altogether on things above ; and he has swelled and 
inflated himself to such a degree, that his friends are under 
apprehensions that he will one day or other explode and 
blow up like a torpedo* 



292 BEAUTIES OF 



How King Ferdinand foraged the Vega; and of the 
battle of the Bridge of Pinos, and the fate of the two 
3Ioorish brothers, 

MuLEY Abdalla el Zagal had'been under a spell of ill 
fortune, ever since the suspicious death of the old king his 
brother. Success had deserted his standard ; and, with his 
fickle subjects, want of success was one of the greatest crimes 
in a sovereign. He found his popularity declining, and ha 
lost all confidence in his people. The Christian army march- 
ed in open defiance through his territories, and sat down de- 
liberately before his fortresses ; yet he dared not lead forth 
his legions to oppose them, lest the inhabitants of the Albay- 
cin, ever ripe for a revolt, should rise and shut the gates of 
Granada against his return. 

Every few days, some melancholy train entered the me- 
tropolis, the inhabitants of some captured town, bearing the 
few effects that had been spared them, and weeping and 
bewailing the desolation of their homes. When the tidings 
arrived that Illora and Moclin had fallen, the people were 
seized with consternation. " The right eye of Granada is 
extingyished," exclaimed they; " the shield of Granada is 
broken: what shall protect us from the inroad of the foe?" 
When the survivors of the garrisons of those towns arrived, 
with downcast looks, bearing the marks of battle, and desti- 
tute of arms and standards, the populace reviled them in their 
wrath; but they answered, "we fought as long as we had 
force to fight, or walls to shelter us ; but the christians laid 
our towns and battlements in ruins, and we looked in vain 
for aid from Granada." 

The alcaydes of Illora and Moclin were brothers ; they 
were alike in prowess, and the bravest among the Moorish 
chevaliers. They had been the most distinguished in all 
tilts and tourneys which graced the happier days of Granada, 
and had distinguished themselves in the sterner conflicts of 
the field. Acclamation had always followed their banners, 
and they had long been the delight of the people. Yet now, 
when they returned after the capture of their fortresses, they 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 293 

were followed by the unsteady populace with execrations. 
The hearts of the alcaydes swelled with indignation ; they 
found the ingratitude of their countrymen still more intoler- 
able than the hostility of the Christians. 

Tidings came, that the enemy was advancing with his tri- 
umphant legions to lay waste the country about Granada. 
Still El Zagal did not dare to take the field. The two 
alcaydes of Illora and Moclin stood before him: "We have 
defended your fortresses," said they, " until we were almost 
buried under their ruins, and for our reward we receive scof- 
fings and revilings ; give us, oh king, an opportunity where 
knightly valour may signalize itself, not shut up behind stone 
walls, but in the open conflict of the field. The enemy ap- 
proaches to lay our country desolate : give us men to meet 
him in the advance, and let shame light upon our heads if 
we be found wanting in the battle 1" 

The two brothers were sent forth, with a large force of 
horse and foot ; El Zagal intended, should they be successful, 
to issue forth with his whole force, and by a decisive victory, 
repair the losses he had suffered. When the people saw the 
well-known standards of the brothers going forth to battle, 
there was a feeble shout ; but the alcaydes passed on v/ith 
stern countenances, for they knew the same voices would 
curse them were they to return unfortunate. They cast a 
farewell look upon fair Granada, and upon the beautiful 
fields of their infancy, as if for these they were willing to lay 
down their lives, but not for an ungrateful people. 

The army of Ferdinand had arrived within two leagues of 
Granada, at the Bridge of Pinos, a pass famous in the wars 
of the Moors and christians for many a bloody conflict. It 
was the pass by which the CastiUan monarchs generally 
made their inroads, and was capable of great defence, from 
the rugged ness of the country and the difficulty of the 
bridge. The king, with the main body of the army, had 
attained the brow of a hill, when they beheld the advance 
guard, under the marques of Cadiz and the Master of Santi- 
ago, furiously attacked by the enemy, in the vicinity of the 
bridge. The Moors rushed to the assault with their usual 
shouts, but with more than usual ferocity. There was a 
hard struggle at the bridge; both parties knew the importance 
of that pass. 

2S* 



294 BEAUTIES OF 

The king particularly noted the prowess of two Moorish 
cavaliers, alike in arms and devices, and whom fby their 
bearing and attendance he perceived to be commanders of 
the enemy. They were the two brothers, the alcaydes of 
lUora and Moclin. Wherever they turned, they carried con- 
fusion and death into the ranks of the Christians ; but they 
fought with desperation, rather than valour. The count de 
Cabra, and his brother Don Mariin de Cordova, pressed for- 
ward with eagerness against them ; but having advanced too 
precipitately, were surrounded by the foe, and in imminent 
danger. A young Christian knight, seeing their peril, has- 
tened with his followers to their relief. The king recognized 
him for Don Juan de Arragon, count of Ribar^oza, his own 
nephew ; for he was illegitimate son of the duke of Villaher- 
mosa, illegitimate brother of king Ferdinand. The splendid 
armour of Don Juan, and the sumptuous caparison of his 
steed, rendered him a brilliant object of attack. He was as- 
sailed on all sides, and his superb steed slain, under him ; yet 
still he fought valiantly, bearing for a lime, the brunt of the 
light, and giving the exhausted forces of the count de Cabra 
time to recover breath. 

Seeing the peril of these troops and the general obstinacy 
of the fight, the king ordered the royal standard to be ad- 
vanced, and hastened, with all his forces, to the relief of the 
count de Cabra. At his approach, the enemy gave way, 
and retreated towards the bridge. The" two Moorish com- 
manders endeavoured to rally their troops, and animate them 
to defend this pass to the utmost ; they used prayers, remon- 
strances, menaces — ^but almost in vain. They could only 
collect a scanty handful of cavaliers ; with these they planted 
themselves at the head of the bridge, and disputed it inch by 
inch. The fight was hot and obstinate, for but few could 
contend hand to hand, yet many discharged cross-bows 
and arquebusses from the banks. The river was covered 
with the floating bodies of the slain. The Moorish band of 
cavaliers was almost entirely cut to pieces ; the two brothers 
fell, covered with wounds, upon the bridge they had so reso- 
lutely defended. They had given up the battle for lost, but 
had determined not to return alive to ungrateful Granada. 

When the people of the capital heard how devotedly they 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 29S 

had fallen, they lamented greatly their deaths, and extolled 
their memory : a column was erected to their honour in the 
vicinity of the bridge, which long went by the name of" the 
Tomb of the Brothers." 

The army of Ferdinand now marched on, and established 
its camp in the vicinity of Granada. The worthy Agapida 
gives many triumphant details of the ravages committed in 
the vega, which was again laid waste ; the grain, fruits, and 
other productions- of the eartli, destroyed — and that earthly 
paradise rendered a dreary desert. He narrates several 
fierce but ineffectual sallies and skirmishes of the Moors, in 
defence of their favourite plain; among which, one deserves 
to be mentioned, as it records the achievements of one of the 
saintly heroes of this war. 

During one of the movements of the Christian army, near 
the walls of Granada, a battalion of fifteen hundred cavalry, 
and a large force of foot, had sallied from the city, and post- 
ed themselves near some gardens, which were surrounded 
by a canal, and traversed by ditches, for the purpose of irri- 
gation. 

The Moors beheld the duke del Infantado pass by, with 
his two splendid battalions ; one of men-at-arms, the other 
of light cavalry, armed a la gineta. In company with him, 
but following as a rear-guard, was Don Garcia Osorio, the 
belligerent bishop of Jaen, attended by Francisco Bovadillo, 
the corregidor of his city, and followed by two squadrons of 
men-at-arms, from Jaen, Anduxar, Ubeda, and Baeza.* 
The success of last year's campaign had given the good 
bishop an inclination for warlike affairs, and he had once 
more buckled on his cuirass. 

The Moors were much given to stratagem in warfare. 
They looked wistfully at the magnificent squadrons of the 
duke del Infantado; but their martial discipline precluded all 
attack : the good bishop promised to be a more easy prey. 
Suffering the duke and his troops to pass unmolested, they 
approached the squadrons of the bishop, and, making a pre- 
tended attack, skirmished slightly, and fled in apparent con- 
fusion. The bishop considered the day his own, and, se- 

* Puigar, part 3, cap. 62. 



S96 BEAUTIES OF 

conded by his corregidor Bovadillo, followed with valorous 
precipitation. The Moors fled into the Huerta del Rey, or 
orchard of the king ; the troops of the bishop followed hotly 
after them. 

When the Moors perceived their pursuers fairly embar- 
rassed among the intricacies of the garden, they turned 
fiercely upon them, while some of their number threw open 
the sluices of the Xenel. In an instant, the canal which en- 
circled and the ditches which traversed the garden, were 
filled with water, and the valiant bishop and his followers 
found themselves overv^^helmed by a deluge.* A scene of 
great confusion succeeded. Some of the men of Jaen, stout- 
est of heart and hand, fought with the Moors in the garden, 
while others struggled with the water, endeavouring to es- 
cape across the canal, in which attempt many horses were 
drowned. 

Fortunately, the duke del Infantado perceived the snare 
into which his companions had fallen, and despatched his 
light cavalry to their assistance. The Moors v/ere com- 
pelled to flight, and driven along the road of Elvira up to the 
gates of Granada. f Several Christian cavaliers perished in 
this affray; the bishop himself escaped with difficulty, having 
slipped from his saddle in crossing the canal, but saving him- 
self by holding on to the tail of his charger. This perilous 
achievement seems to have satisfied the good bishop's belli- 
gerent propensities. He retired on his laurels, (says Aga- 
pida,) to his city of Jean ; where, in the fruition of all good 
things, he gradually waxed too corpulent for his corselet, 
which was hung up in the hall of his episcopal palace ; and 
we hear no more of his military deeds, throughout the resi- 
due of the holy war of Granada. J 

King Ferdinand, having completed his ravage of the vega, 
and kept El Zagal shut up in his capital, conducted his army 
back through the pass of Lope to rejoin queen Isabella at 
Moclin. The fortresses lately taken being well garrisoned 

* Pulgar. t Ibid. 

i " Don Luis Osorio fue obispo de Jaen desde el ano de 1483, y presidio in esta 
Iglesia hasta el de 1496 in que niurio en Flandes, a donde fue accompanando a la 
princesa Dona Juana, esposa del archiduque Don Felipe."— Espana Sagrada, po»" 
Tr. M. Kiseo, torn. 41, trat. 77, cap. 4. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 297 

and supplied, he gave the command of the frontier to hi^ 
cousin, Don Fadrique de Toledo, afterwards so famous in 
the Netherlands as the duke of Alva. The campaign being 
thus completely crowned with success, the sovereigns re- 
turned in triumph to the city of Cordova. 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

My conversation wath the Moor in thf^ Court of Lions, set 
me to musing on the singular fate of Boabdil. Never was 
surname more applicable than that bestowed upon him by 
his subjects, of " El Zogoybi," or " the unlucky." His mis- 
fortunes began almost in his cradle. In his tender youth, 
he was imprisoned and menaced with death by an inhuman 
father, and only escaped through a mother's stratagem ; in 
after years his life was imbittered and repeatedly endanger- 
ed, by the hostilities of a usurping uncle ; his reign was dis- 
tracted by external invasions and internal feuds : he was 
alternately the foe, the prisoner, the friend, and always the 
dupe of Ferdinand, until conquered and dethroned by the 
mingled craft and force of that perfidious monarch. An 
exile from his native land, he took refuge with one of the 
princes of Africa, and fell obscurely in battle, fighting in the 
cause of a stranger. His misfortunes ceased not with his 
death. If Boabdil cherished a desire to leave an honourable 
name on the historic page, how cruelly has he been defraud- 
ed of his hopes ! Who is there that has turned the least at- 
tention to the romantic history of the Moorish domination in 
Spain, without kindling v,^ith indignation at the alleged atro- 
cities of Boabdil 1 Who has not been touched with the woes 
of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected by him to a trial of 
life and death, on a false charge of infidelity ? Who has 
not been shocked by his alleged murder of his sister and her 
two children, in a transport of passion? Who has not felt 
his blood boil, at the inhuman massacre of the gallant 
Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he ordered 



298 BEAUTIES OF 

to be beheaded in the Court of Lions ? All these charges 
have been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into 
ballads, dramas, and romances, until they have taken too 
thorough possession of the public mind to be eradicated. 
There is not a foreigner of education that visits the Alham- 
bra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencerrages were 
beheaded ; and gazes with horror at the grated gallery where 
the queen is said to have been confined ; not a peasant of the 
Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets, to 
the accompaniment of his guitar, while his hearers learn to 
execrate the very name of Boabdil. 

I'Tevcr, however, was the name more foully and unjustly 
slandered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles 
and letters written by Spanish authors, contemporary with 
Boabdil ; some of whom were in the confidence of the Catho- 
lic sovereigns, and actually present in the camp throughout 
the war. I have examined all the Arabian authorities I 
could get access to, through the medium of translation, and 
can find nothing to justify these dark and hateful accusa- 
tions. The whole of these tales may be traced to a work 
commonly called " The Civil Wars of Granada," contain- 
ing a pretended history of the feuds of the Zegries and 
Abencerrages, during the last struggle of the Moorish em- 
pire. The work appeared originally in Spanish, and pro- 
fessed to be translated from the Arabic by one Gines Perez 
de Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia. It has since passed into 
various languages, and Florian has taken from it much of 
the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova ; it has thus, in a great 
measure, usurped the authority of real history, and is cur- 
rently believed by the people, and especially the peasantry 
of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass of fic- 
tion, mingled with a few disfigured truths, which give it an 
air of veracity. It bpars internal evidence of its falsity ; the 
manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly 
misrepresented in it, and scenes depicted totally incompati- 
ble with their habits and their faith, and which never could 
have been recorded by a Mahometan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost crimi- 
nal in the wilful perversions of this work : great lati- 
tude is undoubtedly to be allowed to romantic fiction, but 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 299 

there are limits which it must not pass, and the names of 
the distinguished dead, which belong to history, are no more 
to be calumniated than those of the illustrious living. One 
would have thought too, that the unfortunate Boadbil had suf- 
fered enough for his justifiable hostility to the Spaniards, by 
being stript of his kingdom, without having his name thus 
wantonly traduced, and rendered a by-word and a theme of 
infamy in his native land, and in the very mansion of his 
fathers ! 

It is not intended hereby to affirm that the transactions 
imputed to Boabdil, are totally without historic foundation ; 
but as far as they can be traced, they appear to have been 
the acts of his father, Aben Hassan, who is represented by 
both Christian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel 
and ferocious nature. It was he who put to death the cava- 
liers of the illustrious line of the Abencerrages, upon suspi- 
cion of their being engaged in a conspiracy to dispossess him 
of his throne. 

The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and 
of her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced 
to an incident in the life of his tiger-hearted father. Aben 
Hassen, in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian 
captive of noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation 
of Zorayda, by whom he had two sons. She was of an 
ambitious spirit, and anxious that her children should suc- 
ceed to the crown. For this purpose she worked upon the 
suspicious temper of the king ; inflaming him with jealousies 
of his children by his other wives and concubines, whom 
she accused of plotting against his throne and life. Some 
of them were slain by the ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, 
the virtuous mother of Boabdil, who had once been the 
cherished favourite of the tyrant, became likewise the ob- 
ject of his suspicion. He confined her and her son in the 
tower of Comares, and would have sacrificed Boabdil to his 
fury, but that his mother lowered him from the tower, in 
the night, by means of the scarfs of herself and her attend- 
ants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. ' 

Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find 
for the story of the accused and captive queen ; and in this 
it appears that Boabdil was the persecuted, instead of the 
persecutor. 



300 BEAUTIES OF 

Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disas- 
trous reign, Boabdil gives evidence of a mild and amiable 
character. He, in the first instance, won the hearts of the 
people by his aifable and gracious manners ; he was always 
placable, and never inflicted any severity of punishment 
upon those who occasionally rebelled against him. He was 
personally brave, but he wanted moral courage ; and, in 
times of difficulty and perplexity, was wavering and irreso- 
lute. This feebleness of spirit hastened his downfall, while 
it deprived him of that heroic grace which would have given 
a grandeur and dignity to his fate, and rendered him wor- 
thy of closing the splendid drama of the Moslem domination 
in Spain. 



THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first 
taking possession of it; a few evenings have produced a 
thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The 
moon, which then was invisible, has gradually gained upon 
the night, and now rolls in full splendour above the towers, 
pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and hall. 
The garden beneath my window is gently lighted up ; the 
orange and citron trees are tipped with silver ; the fountain 
sparkles in the moonbeams, and even the blush of the rose 
is faintly visible. 

1 have sat for hours at my window, inhaling the sweet 
ness of the garden, and musing on the chequered fortunes of 
those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant 
memorials around. Sometimes I have issued forth at mid- 
night, when every thing was quiet, and have wandered over 
the whole building. Who can do justice to a moonlight 
night in such a climate and in such a place ! The tempera- 
ture of an Andalusian midnight in summer is perfectly ethe- 
real. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere; there is 
a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 30i 

frame, that render mere existence enjoyment. The effect of 
moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something like en- 
chantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every moulder- 
ing tint and weather-stain disappears ; the marble resumes 
its original whiteness ; the long colonnades hs'ighten in the 
moonbeams ; the halls are illuminated with a softened radi- 
ance until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted pa- 
lace of an Arabian tale. 

At such a time I have ascended to the little pavillion call- 
ed the Queen's Toilette, to enjoy its varied and extensive 
prospect. To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra 
Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker 
firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be 
softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, 
would be to lean over the parapet of the tocador, and gaze 
down upon Granada, spread out like a map below me ; all 
buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents 
sleeping, as it were, in the moonshine. 

Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from 
some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda, at other 
times I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the 
notes of a single voice rising from some solitary street, and 
have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier serenading 
his lady's window ; a gallant custom of former days, but 
now sadly on the decline, except in the remote towns and vil- 
lages of Spain. Such are the scenes that have detained me 
for many an hour loitering about the courts and balconies 
of the castle, enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation 
which steal away existence in a southern climate, and it has 
been almost morning before I have retired to my bed, and 
been lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of 
Lindaraxa. 



2.6 



80^ 



BEAUTIK8 iy& 



KIDD THE PIRATK 

In old times, just after the territory of the New Nether- 
ands had been wrested from the hands of their Fligh Mighti- 
nesses, the Lords States- General of Holland, by King Charles 
the Second, and while it was as yet in an unquiet state, the 
province was a great resort of random adventurers, loose 
livers, and all that class of haphazard fellows who live by 
their wits, and dislike the old-fashioned restraints of law and 
gospel. Among these the foremost were the buccaneers. 
These were rovers of the deep, who, perhaps, in time of war 
had been educated in those schools of piracy, the privateers; 
but having once tasted the sweets of plunder, had ever re- 
tained a hankering after it. There is but a slight step from 
the privateersman to the pirate ; both fight for the love of 
plunder ; only that the latter is the bravest, as he dares both 
the enemy and the gallows. 

But in whatever school they had been taught, the bucca- 
neers who kept about the English colonies were daring fel- 
lows, and made sad work in times of peace among the Spa- 
nish settlements and Spanish merchantmen. The easy 
access to the harbour of the Manhattoes, the number of 
hiding-places about its waters, and the laxity of its scarcely- 
organized government, made it a great rendezvous of the 
pirates ; where ihey might dispose of their booty, and con- 
cert new depredations. As they brought home with them 
wealthy lading of all kinds, the luxuries of the tropics, and 
the sumptuous spoils of the Spanish provinces, and disposed 
of them with the proverbial carelessness of freebooters, they 
were welcome visiters to the thrifty traders of the Manhat- 
toes. Crews of these desperadoes, therefore, the runagates 
of every country and every clime, might be seen swagger- 
ing in open day about the streets of the little burgh, elbow- 
ing its quiet mynheers ; trafficking away their rich outland- 
ish plunder at half or quarter price to the wary merchant ; 
and then squandering their prize-money in taverns, drinking, 
gambling, singing, swearing, shouting, and astounding the 
neighbourhood with midnight brawl and ruffian revelry. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 307 

faced Cape-Cod whaler. — << There's a fine old song about 
him, all to the tune of — 

My name is Captain Kidd, 
As I sailed, as I sailed — 

And then it tells all about how he gained the Devil's good 
graces by burying the Bible. 

I had the Bible in my hand. 

As I sailed, as I sailed. 
And I buried it in the sand 

As I sailed — 

" Odsfish, if I thought this pistol had belonged to Kidd, I 
should set great store by it, for curiosity's sake. By the 
way, I recollect a story about a fellow who once dug up 
Kidd's buried money, which was written by a neighbour of 
mine, and which I learnt by heart. As the fish don't bite 
just now, I'll tell it to you, by way of passing away the 
time." 



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